How we think

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How we think,

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HOW WE THINK

BY
JOHN DEWEY

PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY

BOSTON, U.S.A.

D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS

1910

1/1 io

Copyright, 1910,
By D. C. Heath & Co.

PREFACE

Our schools are troubled with a multiplication of
studies, each in turn having its own multiplication of
materials and principles. Our teachers find their tasks
made heavier in that they have come to deal with
pupils individually and not merely in mass. Unless
these steps in advance are to end in distraction, some
clew of unity, some principle that makes for simplifica-
tion, must be found. This book represents the con-
viction that the needed steadying and centralizing factor
is found in adopting as the end of endeavor that atti-
tude of mind, that habit of thought, which we call
scientific. This scientific attitude of mind might, con-
ceivably, be quite irrelevant to teaching children and
youth. But this book also represents the conviction
that such is not the case ; that the native and unspoiled
attitude of childhood, marked by ardent curiosity, fertile
imagination, and love of experimental inquiry, is near,
very near, to the attitude of the scientific mind. If
these pages assist any to appreciate this kinship and to
consider seriously how its recognition in educational
practice would make for individual happiness and the
reduction of social waste, the book will amply have
served its purpose.

It is hardly necessary to enumerate the authors to
whom I am indebted. My fundamental indebtedness
is to my wife, by whom the ideas of this book were

iv PREFACE

inspired, and through whose work in connection with
the Laboratory School, existing in Chicago between
1896 and 1903, the ideas attained such concreteness
as comes from embodiment and testing in practice. It
is a pleasure, also, to acknowledge indebtedness to the
intelligence and sympathy of those who cooperated as
teachers and supervisors in the conduct of that school,
and especially to Mrs. Ella Flagg Young, then a col-
league in the University, and now Superintendent of
the Schools of Chicago.

New York City, December, 1909.

CONTENTS

PART I
THE PROBLEM OF TRAINING THOUGHT

CHATTER FAGa

I. What is Thought? i

II. The Need for Training Thought ... 14

III. Natural Resources m the Training of Thought 29

IV. School Conditions and the Training of Thought 45
V. The Means and End of Mental Training: the

Psychological and the Logical ... 56

PART II

LOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS

VI. The Analysis of a Complete Act of Thought . 68
VII. Systematic Inference: Induction and Deduc-
tion 79

VIII. Judgment: The Interpretation of Facts . . loi

IX. Meaning: or Conceptions and Understanding . 116

X. Concrete and Abstract Thinking . . . 135

XI. Empirical and Scientific Thinking . . .145

PART III
THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT

XII. Activity and the Training of Thought . . 157
XIII. Language and the Training of Thought . . 170

VI CONTENTS

CHAFTBS PAGE

XIV. Observation and Information in the Training

OF Mind i88

XV. The Recitation and the Training of Thought zoi

XVI. Some General Conclusions 214

limited

HOW WE THINK

PART ONE: THE PROBLEM OF
TRAINING THOUGHT

CHAPTER ONE
WHAT IS THOUGHT?

§. I. Varied Senses of the Term

No words are oftener on our lips than thinking and Four senses
thought. So profuse and varied, indeed, is our use of fromufe"'
these words that it is not easy to define just what we wider to the
mean by them. The aim of this chapter is to find a
single consistent meaning. Assistance may be had by
considering some typical ways in which the terms are
employed. In the first place thought is used broadly,
not to say loosely. Everything that comes to mind,
that "goes through our heads," is called a thought. To'
think of a thing is just to be conscious of it in any way
whatsoever. Second, the term is restricted by excluding
whatever is directly presented; we think (or think of)
only such things as we do not directly see, hear, smell,
or taste. Then, third, the meaning is further limited to
beliefs that rest upon some kind of evidence or testi-
mony. Of this third type, two kinds — or, rather, two de-
grees — must be discriminated. In some cases, a belief
is accepted with slight or almost no attempt to state
the grounds that support it. In other cases, the ground
or basis for a belief is deliberately sought and its

2 HOW WE THINK

adequacy to support the belief examined. This process
is called reflective thought ; it alone is truly educative in
value, and it forms, accordingly, the principal subject of
this volume. We shall now briefly describe each of
the four senses.

I. In its loosest sense, thinking signifies everything
that, as we say, is "in our heads" or that "goes throughj
our minds." He who offers "a penny for your thoughts";
does not expect to drive any great bargain. In calling
the objects of his demand thoughts, he does not intend
to ascribe to them dignity, consecutiveness, or truth,
Any idle fancy, trivial recollection, or flitting impression
will satisfy his demand. Daydreaming, building of
castles in the air, that loose flux of casual and discon-
nected material that floats through our minds in relaxed
moments are, in this random sense, thinking. More of
our waking life than we should care to admit, even to
ourselves, is likely to be whiled away in this inconsC'
quential trifling with idle fancy and unsubstantial hope.
In this sense, silly folk and dullards think. The story
is told of a man in slight repute for intelligence, who,
desiring to be chosen selectman in his New England
town, addressed a knot of neighbors in this wise : " I
hear you don't believe I know enough to hold office. I
wish you to understand that I am thinking about some-
thing or other most of the time." Now reflective
thought is like this random coursing of things through
the mind in that it consists of a succession of things
thought of; but it is unlike, in that the mere chance
occurrence of any chance "something or other" in
. an irregular sequence does not suffice. Reflection
■ involves not simply a sequence of ideas, but a con-
sequence — a consecutive ordering in such a way that

WHAT IS THOUGHT ? 3

each determines the next as its proper outcome, while-
each in turn leans back on its predecessors. The sue- •
cessive portions of the reflective thought grow out of
one another and support one another; they do not come
and go in a medley. Each phase is a step from some-
thing to something — technically speaking, it is a term
of thought. Each term leaves a deposit which is utilized
in the next term. The stream or flow becomes a train,
cl^ain, or thread.

IJ. Even when thinking is used in a broad sense, it is The restric-
usually restricted to matters not directly perceived: to j^°^^{„ to
what we do not see, smell, hear, or touch. We ask the what goes
man telling a story if he saw a certain incident happen, ^4^°° ^^gg^.
and his reply may be, " No, I only thought of it." A vatioiv
note of invention, as distinct from faithful record of
observation, is present. Most important in this class
are successions of imaginative incidents and episodes
which, having a certain coherence, hanging together on
a continuous thread, Ue between kaleidoscopic flights of
fancy and considerations deliberately employed to estab-
lish a conclusion. The imaginative stories poured forth
by children possess all degrees of internal congruity;
some are disjointed, some are articulated. When con-
nected, they simulate reflective thought; indeed, they
usually occur in minds of logical capacity. These
imaginative enterprises often precede thinking of the
close-knit type and prepare the way for it. But they Reflective
do not aim at knowledge, at belief about facts or in truths; ^"^^*^.
and thereby they are marked off from reflective thought ever, 'at
even when they most resemble it. Those who express ''*"^*
such thoughts do not expect credence, but rather credit
for a well-constructed plot or a well-arranged climax.
They produce good stories, not — unless by chance —

HOW WE THINK

knowledge. Such thoughts are an efflorescence of
feeling; the enhancement of a mood or sentiment is
their aim ; congruity of emotion, their binding tie.

III. In its next sense, thought denotes belief resting
upon some basis, that is, real or supposed knowledge
going beyond what is directly present. It is marked
by acceptance or rejection of something as reasonably prob-
able or improbable. This phase of thought, however,
includes two such distinct types of belief that, even
though their difference is strictly one of degree, not
of kind, it becomes practically important to consider
them separately. Some beliefs are accepted when
their grounds have not themselves been considered,
others are accepted because their grounds h'ave been
examined."

When we say, " Men used to think the world was flat,"
or, " I thought you went by the house," we express be-
lief : something is accepted, held to, acquiesced in, or
affirmed. But such thoughts may mean a supposition
accepted without reference to its real grounds. These
may be adequate, they may not; but their value with
reference to the support they afford the belief has not
been considered.

Such thoughts grow up unconsciously and without
reference to the attainment of correct belief. They are
picked up — we know not how. From obscure sources
and by unnoticed channels they insinuate themselves
into acceptance and become unconsciously a part of
our mental furniture. Tradition, instruction, imitation
— all of which depend upon authority in some form'
or appeal to our own advantage, or fall in with a
strong passion — are responsible for them. Such
thoughts are prejudices, that is, prejudgments, not

WHAT IS THOUGHT? 5

judgments proper that rest upon a survey of evi-
dence.^

IV. Thoughts that result in belief have an importance Thinking

attached to them which leads to reflective thought, '"'^sbest

° ' sense IS thai
to conscious inquiry into the nature, conditions, and which con-
bearings of the belief. To t/zmk of whales and camels ^'//"a*^^
in the clouds is to entertain ourselves with fancies, conse-
terminable at our pleasure, which do not lead to any of ^eUefs
belief in particular. But to think of the world as flat is
to ascribe a quality to a real thing as its real property.
This conclusion denotes a. connection among things and
hence is not, like imaginative thought, plastic to our
mood. Belief in the world's flatness commits him who
holds it to thinking in certain specific ways of other
objects, such as the heavenly bodies, antipodes, the possi-
bility of navigation. It prescribes to him actions in ac-
cordance with his conception of these objects.

The consequences of a belief upon other beliefs and
upon behavior may be so important, then, that men are
forced to consider the grounds or reasons of their belief
and its logical consequences.- This means reflective
thought — thought in its eulogistic and emphatic sense.

Men thought the world was flat until Columbus thought
it to be round. The earlier thought was a belief held
because men had not the energy or the courage to ques-
tion what those about them accepted and taught,
especially as it was suggested and seemingly confirmed
by obvious sensible facts. The thought of Columbus
was a reasoned conclusion. It marked the close of study
into facts, of scrutiny and revision of evidence, of work-
ing out the implications of various hypotheses, and of

1 This mode of thinking in its contrast with thoughtful inquiry receives
special notice in the next chapter.

HOW WE THINK

Reflective

thought

defined

There is a
common ele-
ment in all
types of
thought :

comparing these theoretical results with one another and
with known facts. Because Columbus did not accept
unhesitatingly the current traditional theory, because he
doubted and inquired, he arrived at his thought. Skep-
tical of what, from long habit, seemed most certain, and
credulous of what seemed impossible, he went on thinking
until he could produce evidence for both his confidence
and his disbelief. Even if his conclusion had finally
turned out wrong, it would have been a different sort of
belief from those it antagonized, because it was reached
by a different method. Active, persistent, and careful con,
sideration of any belief or supposed form of knowledge in
the light of the grounds that support it, and the further coVf
elusions to which it tends, constitutes reflective thought
Any one of the first three kinds of thought may elicit
this type ; but once begun, it is a conscious and voluntaij-
effort to establish belief upon a firm basis of reasons.

§ 2. The Central Factor in Thinking j

There are, however, no sharp lines of demarcation
between the various operations just outlined. The
problem of attaining correct habits of reflection would
be much easier than it is, did not the different modes of
thinking blend insensibly into one another. So far, we
have considered rather extreme instances of each kind
in order to get the field clearly before us. Let us- now
reverse this operation; let us consider a rudimentary
case of thinking, lying between careful examination oi
evidence and a mere irresponsible stream of fancies, h
man is walking on a warm day. The sky was clear thf
last time he observed it; but presently he notes, whi|
occupied primarily with other things, that the air is
cooler. It occurs to him that it is probably going ta

WHAT IS TJdOUtiHT i J

irain ; looking up, he sees a dark cloud between him and
ithe sun, and he then quickens his steps. What, if any-
tthing, in such a situation can be called thought ? Neither
Ithe act of walking nor the noting of the cold is a thought.
;Walking is one direction of activity; looking and noting
tare other modes of activity. The likelihood that it will
■rain is, however, something suggested. The pedestrian
ifeels the cold ; • he thinks of clouds and a coming
[^shower.

i So far there is the same sort of situation as when one «*«■ sugges-
jlooking at a cloud is reminded of a human figure and ti^gnot™*"
,face. Thinking in both of these cases (the cases of be-\ observe.a
(lief and of fancy) involves a noted or perceived fact,
{followed by something else which is not observed but
jwhich is brought to mind, suggested by the thing seen. '
tOne reminds us, as we say, of the other. Side by side,
;however, with this factor of agreement in the two cases
of suggestion is a factor of marked disagreement. We
do not believe in the face suggested by the cloud; we do
.not consider at all the probability of its being a fact.
|There is no reflective thought. The danger of rain, on
jthe contrary, presents itself to us as a genuine possibil-
,ity-^as a possible fact of the same nature as the ob-
served coolness. Put differently, we do not regard the
ploud as meaning or indicating a face, but merely as Butreflec-
jSuggesting it, while we do consider that the coolness may also the" ^*^
mean rain.^* In the first case, seeing an object, we just relation of

, 1 - T r 1 • 1 • 1 Signifying

happen, as we say, to think of something else ; in the
second, we consider ih^ possibility and nature of the con--
flection between the object seen and the object suggested. \
jPhe se'en thing is regarded as in some way the ground or
Sasis of belief in the suggested thing ; it possesses the
I uality of evidence.

8

HOW WE THINK

Various
synonymous
expressions
for the
function of
signifying

Reflection
and belief
on evidence

This function by which one thing signifies or indi.
cates another, and thereby leads us to consider how far
one may be regarded as warrant for belief in the other,
is, then, the central factor in all reflective or distinctively^
intellectual thinking. By calling up various situations to
which such terms as signifies and indicates apply, the stu-
dent will best reaUze for himself the actual facts denoted
by the words reflective thought. Synonyms for these
terms are : points to, tells of, betokens, prognosticates,
represents, stands for, implies.^ We also say one thing,
portends another ; is ominous of another, or a symptom:
of it, or a key t<^ it, or (if the connection is quite ob-
scure) that it gives a hint, clue, or intimation.

Reflection thus implies that something is believed in
(or disbelieved in), not on its own direct account, but
through something else which stands as witness, evi-
dence, proof, voucher, warrant ; that is, as ground of h
lief. At one time, rain is actually felt or directly ex-
perienced ; at another time, we infer that it has rainet
from the looks of the grass and trees, or that it is going
to rain because of the condition of the air or the state oi
the barometer. At one time, we see a man (or suppose
we do) without any intermediary fact ; at another time,
we are not quite sure what we see, and hunt for accoro
panying facts that will serve as signs, indications, tokens
of what is to be believed.

Thinking, for the purposes of this inquiry, is defineJ
accordingly as that operation in which present facts sug'
gest other facts {or truths) in such a way as to induce U

1 Implies is more often used when a principle or general truth briM
about belief in some other truth ; the other phrases are more frequ»<"'
used to denote the cases in which one fact or event leads us to beli< '
something else. CI

WHAT IS THOUGHT? 9

lief in the latter upon the ground or warrant of the
former. We do not put beliefs that rest simply on '
inference on the surest level of assurance. To. say
" I think so "^ implies that I do not as yet know sq. The
inferential belief may later be__ confirmed and come to
stand a^ sure, but in itself it always has a certain ele-
ment of supposition.

§ 3. Elements in Reflective Thinking

\ So much for the description of the more external and '

Fobvious aspects of the fact called thinking. Further

consideration at once reveals certain subprocesses which

are involved in every reflective operation. These are :

£(«) a state of perplexity, hesitation, doubt; and {U) an

,act of search or investigation directed toward bringing

,to light further facts which serve to corroborate or to

itiullify the suggested belief.

. («) In our illustration, the shock of coolness generated The impor-

jconfusion and suspended belief, at least momentarily, t^'x^^o*

. , , uncertainty

rtBecause it was unexpected, it was a shock or an interrup-

ijjtion needing to be accounted for, identified, or placed.

ipTo say that the abrupt occurrence of the change of tem-

(perature constitutes a problem may sound forced and

j,irtificial; but if we are willing to extend the meaning

iipf the word problem to whatever — no matter how slight

ind commonplace in character — perplexes and chal-
jjCnges the mind so that it makes belief at all uncertain,
j;here is a genuine problem or question involved in this
experience of sudden change.

(3) The turning of the head, the lifting of the eyes, and of
l"he scanning of the heavens, are activities adapted to ^^^^^
I "^dng to recognition facts that will answer the question to test

resented by the sudden coolness. The facts as they

10

HOW WE THINK

first presented themselves were perplexing ; they sug
gested, however, clouds. The act of looking was an ad
to discover if this suggested explanation held good. Il
may again seem forced to speak of this looking, almost
automatic, as an act of research or inquiry. But once
more, if we are willing to generalize our conceptions
of our mental operations to include the trivial and
ordinary as well as the technical and recondite, there
is no good reason for refusing to give such a title to
the act of looking. The purport of this act of inquiry
is to confirm or to refute the suggested belief. New
facts are brought to perception, which either corrobo-
rate the idea that a change of weather is imminent, or
negate it.

Another instance, commonplace also, yet not quite so
trivial, may enforce this lesson. A man traveling in an
unfamiliar region comes to a branching of the roads,
Having no sure knowledge to fall back upon, he is
brought to a standstill of hesitation and suspense,
Which road is right ? And how shall perplexity be!
resolved ? There are but two alternatives : he must
either bhndly and arbitrarily take his course, trusting to
luck for the outcome, or he must discover grounds for
the conclusion that a given road is right. Any attempt
to decide the matter by thinking will involve inquirj
into other facts, whether brought out by memory or Bj
further observation, or by both. The perplexed way.
farer must carefully scrutinize what is before him a|
he must cudgel his memory. He looks for evideni
that will support belief in favor of either of the roa
— for evidence that will weight do.wn one suggestic
He may climb a tree ; he may go first in this directic
then in that, looking, in either case, for signs, clu«

WHAT IS THOUGHT? II

indications. He wants something in the nature of a
signboard or a map, and his reflection is ^ aimed at the
discovery of facts that will serve this-furpese .

The~ above 'ilTuitration may be generalized. Think-I Possible,
ing begins in what may fairly enough be called -Siforked-i ^^ybie"™'
road situation, a situation which is ambiguous, which} suggestions
presents a dilemma, which proposes alternatives. Asi
long as our activity glides smoothly along from one!
thing to another, or as long as we permit our imagina-'
tion to entertain fancies at pleasure, there is no call for .
reflection. Difficulty or obstruction in the way of
reaching a belief brings us, however, to a pause. In
the suspense of uncertainty, we metaphorically climb a
tree ; we try to find some standpoint from which we
may survey additional facts and, getting a more com-
manding view of the situation, may decide how the facts
stand related to one another.

Demand for the solution of a perplexity is the steadying Regulation

and giiiding facfor in the entire process of reflection, hvits" ^

Where there is no question of a problem to be solved purpose

Dr a difficulty to be surmounted, the course of suggestions

'Sows on at random ; we have the first type of thought

Jescribed. If the stream of suggestions is controlled

simply by their emotional congruity, their fitting agree-

Hbly into a single picture or story, we have the second

ype* But a question to be answered, an ambiguity to

)e resolyed, sets up an end and holds the current of

' deas to a definite channel. Every suggested conclusion

's tested by its reference to this regulating end, by its

Vrtinence to the problem in hand. This need of

traightening out a perplexity also controls the kind of

aquiry undertaken. A traveler whose end is the most

eautiful path will look for other considerations and

12 HOW WE THINK

will test suggestions occurring to him on another prin-
ciple than if he wishes to discover the way to a given

I city. The problem fixes the end of thought and the end

Xcontrols the process of thinking.

§ 4. Summary

We may recapitulate by saying that the origin of
thinking is some perplexity, confusion, or doubt. Think-
ing is not a case of spontaneous combustion ; it does
not occur just on "general principles." There is some-
thing specific which occasions and evokes it. General
appeals to a child (or to a grown-up) to think, irrespec-
tive of the existence in his own experience of some
difficulty that troubles him and disturbs his equilibrium,
are as futile as advice to lift himself by his boot-strap^

Given a difficulty, the next step is suggestion of
some way out — the formation of some tentative pl^ii!
or project, the entertaining of some theory which will!
account for the peculiarities in question, the considera-
tion of some solution for the problem. The data at
hand cannot supply the solution ; they can only suggest
it. What, then, are the sources of the suggestion
Clearly past experience and prior knowledge. If the
person has had some acquaintance with similar situations,
if he has dealt with material of the same sort before^
suggestions more or less apt and helpful are likely to arise.
But unless there has been experience in some degree
analogous, which may now be represented in imagination,
confusion remains mere confusion. There is nothing
upon which to draw in order to clarify it. Even whei
a child (or a grown-up) has a problem, to urge him t!
think when he has no prior experiences involving soffl
of the same conditions, is wholly futile.

WHAT IS THOUGHT? 1 3

If the suggestion that occurs is at once accepted, we Expioratioi
have uncritical thinking, the minimum of reflection. To *°* testing
turn the thing over in mind, to reflect, means to hunt
for additional evidence, for new data, that will . de-
velop the suggestion, and will either, as we say, bear it j
out or else make obvious its absurdity and irrelevance.
Given a genuine difficulty and a reasonable amount of
analogous experience to draw upon, the difference, par
excellence, between good and bad thinking is found at
this point. The easiest way is to accept any suggestion
that seems plausible and thereby bring to an end the
condition of mental uneasiness. Reflective thinking is
always more or less troublesome because it involves
overcoming the inertia that inclines one to accept sug-
gestions at their face value; it involves willingness to
endure a condition of mental unrest and disturbance.'
Reflective thinking, in short, means judgrnent suspended
during"Turther inquiry; and suspense is likely to be
somewhat painful. As we shall see later, the most im-
portant factor in the training of good mental habits
consists in acquiring the attitude of suspended conclu-
sion, and in mastering the various methods of searching
for new materials to corroborate or to refute the first
[Suggestions that occur. To maintain the state of doubt ;
(End to carry on systematic and protracted inquiry — j
[these are the essentials of thinking. ■'

CHAPTER TWO

THE NEED FOR TRAINING THOUGHT

To expatiate upon the importance of thought would
be absurd. The traditional definition of man as " the
thinking animal " fixes thought as the essential difference
between man and the brutes, — surely an important mat-
ter. More relevant to our purpose is the question how
thought is important, for an answer to this question
will throw light upon the kind of training thought re-
quires if it is to subserve its end.

§ I. The Values of Thought

I. Thought affords the sole method of escape from
purely impulsive or purely routine action. A being
without capacity for thought is moved only by instincts
and appetites, as these are called forth by outward con-
ditions and by the inner state of the organism. A being
thus moved is, as it were, pushed from behind. This
is what we mean by the blind nature of brute actions.
The agent does not see or foresee the end for which he
is acting, nor the results produced by his behaving in one
way rather than in another. He does not " know what
he is about." Where there is thought, things present
act as signs or tokens of things not yet experienced. A
thinking being can, accordingly, act on the basis of the
absent and the future. Instead of being pushed into a
mode of action by the sheer urgency of forces, whethei;'^

14 1'

THE NEED FOR TRAINING THOUGHT 15

instincts or habits, of which he is not aware, a reflective
agent is drawn (to some extent at least) to action by
some remoter object of which he is indirectly aware.

An animal without thought may go into its hole when
rain threatens, because of some immediate stimulus to
its organism. A thinking agent will perceive that cer-
tain given facts are probable signs of a future rain, and
will take steps in the light of this anticipated future.
To plant seeds, to cultivate the soil, to harvest grain,
are intentional acts, possible only to a being who has
learned to subordinate the immediately felt elements of
an experience to those values which these hint at and
prophesy. Philosophers have made much of the phrases
"book of nature," "language of nature." Well, it is in language
virtue of the capacity of thought that given things are
significant of absent things, and that nature speaks a
language which may be interpreted. To a being who
thinks, things are records of their past, as fossils tell
of the prior history of the earth, and are prophetic of
their future, as from the present positions of heavenly
bodies remote eclipses are foretold. Shakespeare's
"tongues in trees, books in the running brooks," ex-
presses literally enough the power superadded to exist-
ences when they appeal to a thinking being. Upon
the function of signification depend all foresight, all in-
telligent planning, deliberation, and calculation.

II. By thought man also develops and arranges arti- Thepossi-
ficial signs to remind him in advance of consequences, ^^^^Jl^
and of ways of securing and avoiding them. As the trait foresight
just mentioned makes the difference between savage man
and brute, so this trait makes the difference between
civilized man and savage. A savage who has been
shipwrecked in a river may note certain things which

i6

HOW WE THINK

serve him as signs of danger in the future. But civilized
man deliberately makes such signs; he sets up in ad-
vance of wreckage warning buoys, and builds light-
houses where he sees signs that such events may occur.
A savage reads weather signs with great expertness;
civilized man institutes a weather service by which signs
are artificially secured and information is distributed in
advance of the appearance of any signs that could be
detected without special methods. A savage finds his
way skillfully through a wilderness by reading certain
obscure indications ; civilized man builds a highway
which shows the road to all. The savage learns to
detect the signs of fire and thereby to invent methods
of producing flame; civilized man invents permanent
conditions for producing light and heat whenever they
are needed. The very essence of civilized culture is
that we deliberately erect monuments and memorials,
lest we forget ; and deliberately institute, in advance of
the happening of various contingencies and emergencies
of life, devices for detecting their approach and regis-
tering their nature, for warding off what is unfavorable,
or at least for protecting ourselves from its full impact
and for making more secure and extensive what is favor-
able. All forms of artificial apparatus are intentionally
designed modifications of natural things in order that
they may serve better than in their natural estate to in-
dicate the hidden, the absent, and the remote.

III. Finally, thought confers upon physical events
and objects a very different status and value from that
which they possess to a being that does not reflect.
These words are mere scratches, curious variations of
light and shade, to one to whom they are not linguistic
signs. To him for whom they are signs of other things,

THE NEED FOR TRAINING THOUGHT 17

each has a definite individuality of its own, according to
the meaning that it is used to convey. Exactly the satne
holds of natural objects. A chair is a different object
to a being to whom it consciously suggests an oppor-
tunity for sitting down, repose, or sociable converse, from
what it is to one to whom it presents itself merely as a
thing to be smelled, or gnawed, or jumped over; a
stone is different to one who knows something of its
past history and its future use from what it is to one
who only feels it directly through his senses. It is only
by courtesy, indeed, that we can say that an unthinking
animal experiences an object at all — so largely is any-
thing that presents itself to us as an object made up
by the qualities it possesses as a sign of other things.

An English logician (Mr. Venn) has remarked that it The natnre
may be questioned whether a dog sees a rainbow any "^^^^^^^
more than he apprehends the political constitution of perceives
the country in which he lives. The same principle ap-
plies to the kennel in which he sleeps and the meat that
he eats. When he is sleepy, he goes to the kennel ;
when he is hungry, he is excited by the smell and color of
meat ; beyond this, in what sense does he see an object f
Certainly he does not see a house — i.e. a thing with all
the properties and relations of a permanent residence,
unless he is capable of making what is present a uniform
sign of what is absent — unless he is capable of thought.
Nor does he see what he eats as meat unless it suggests
the absent properties by virtue of which it is a certain
joint of some animal, and is known to afford nourish-
ment. Just what is left of an object stripped of all
such qualities of meaning, we cannot well say; but
we can be sure that the object is then a very different
sort of thing from the objects that we perceive. There

i8

HOW WE THINK

is moreover no particular limit to the possibilities of
growth in the fusion of a thing as it is to sense and as it
is to thought, or as a sign of other things. The child to-
day soon regards as constituent parts of objects qualities
that once it required the inteUigence of a Copernicus or
a Newton to apprehend.

These various values of the power of thought may be
summed up in the following quotation from John Stuart
Mill. "To draw inferences," he says, "has been said
to be the great business of life. Every one has daily,
hourly, and momentary need of ascertaining facts which
he has not directly observed : not from any general pur-
pose of adding to his stock of knowledge, but because
the facts themselves are of importance to his interests
or to his occupations. The business of the magistrate,
of the military commander, of the navigator, of the
physician, of the agriculturist, is merely to judge of
evidence and to act accordingly. . . . As they do this
well or ill, so they discharge well or ill the duties of
their several callings. It is the only occupation in which
the mind never ceases to be engaged." ^

§ 2. .Importance of Direction in order to Realize tJiese
Values

What a person has not only daily and hourjy, but
momentary need of performing, is not a technical and
abstruse matter ; nor, on the other hand, is it trivial and
negligible. Such a function must be congenial to the
mind, and must be performed, in an unspoiled mind,
upon every fitting occasion. Just because, however, it
is an operation of drawing inferences, of basing conclu-
sions upon evidence, of reaching belief indirectly, it is
1 Mill, System of Logic, Introduction, § 5.

THE NEED FOR TRAINING THOUGHT 19

an operation that may go wrong as well as right, and
hence is one that needs safeguarding and training. The
greater its importance the greater are the evils when it
is ill-exercised.

An earlier writer than Mill, John .Locke (1632-1704), ideas are
brings out the importance of thought for life and the f^r bettM
need of training so that its best and not its worst orforwors*
possibilities will be realized, in the following words :
" No man ever sets himself about anything but upon
some view or other, which serves him for a reason for
what he does ; and whatsoever faculties he employs, the
understanding with such light as it has, well or ill in-
formed, constantly leads ; and by that light, true or false,
all his operative powers are directed. . . . Temples
have their sacred images, and we see what influence they
have always had over a great part of mankind. But in
truth the ideas and images in men's minds are the
invisible powers that constantly govern them, and to
these they all, universally, pay a ready submission. It
is therefore of the highest concernment that great care
should be taken of the understanding, to conduct it
aright in the search of knowledge and in the judgments it
makes." ^ If upon thought hang all deliberate activities
and the uses we make of all our other powers, Locke's
assertion that it is of the highest concernment that care
should be taken of its conduct is a moderate statement.
While the power of thought frees us from servile sub- ^
jection to instinct, appetite, and routine, it also brings
with it the occasion and possibility of error and mistake.^ - ■
In elevating us above the brute, it opens to us the pos-
sibility of failures to which the animal, limited to in-
stinct, cannot sink.

1 Locke, Of the Conduct of the Understanding, first paragraph.

20

HOW WE THINK

§ 3. Tendencies Needing Constant Regulation

Up to a certain point, the ordinary conditions of life,
natural and social, provide the conditions requisite for
regulating the operations of inference. The necessities
of life enforce a fundamental and persistent discipline
for which the most cunningly devised artifices would be
ineffective substitutes. The burnt child dreads the fire ;
the painful consequence emphasizes the need of correct
inference much more than would learned discourse on
the properties of heat. Social conditions also put a pre-
mium on correct inferring in matters where action based
on valid thought is socially important. These sanctions
of proper thinking may affect life itself, or at least a
life reasonably free from perpetual discomfort. The
signs of enemies, of shelter, of food, of the main social
conditions, have to be correctly apprehended.

But this disciplinary training, efficacious as it is within
certain limits, does not carry us be .'ond a restricted
boundary. Logical attainment in one direction is no
bar to extravagant conclusions in another. A savage
expert in judging signs of the movements and location
of animals that he hunts, will accept and gravely narrate
the most preposterous yarns concerning the origin of
their habits and structures. When there is no directly
appreciable reaction of the inference upon the security
and prosperity of life, there are no natural checks to
the acceptance of wrong beliefs. Conclusions may be
generated by a modicum of fact merely because the sug-
gestions are vivid and interesting ; a large accumulation
of data may fail to suggest a proper conclusion because
existing customs are averse to entertaining it. Inde-
pendent of training, there is a " primitive credulity "

THE NEED FOR TRAINING THOUGHT 21

which tends to make no distinction between what a
trained mind calls fancy and that which it calls a rea-
sonable conclusion. The face in the clouds is believed
in as some sort of fact^ merely because it is forcibly
suggested. Natural intelligence is no barrier to the
propagation of error, nor large but untrained experience
to the accumulation of fvced false beliefs. Errors may
support one another mutually and weave an ever larger
and firmer fabric of misconception. Dreams, the posi-
tions of stars, the lines of the hand, may be regarded as
valuable signs, and the fall of cards as an inevitable
omen, while natural events of the most crucial signifi-
cance go disregarded. Beliefs in portents of various
kinds, now mere nook and cranny superstitions, were
once universal. A long disciphne in exact science was
required for their conquest.

In the mere function of suggestion, there is no differ- Superstition
ence between the power of a column of mercury to por- a^j-esui"^^
tend rain, and that of the entrails of an animal or the as science
flight of birds to foretell the fortunes of war. For all
anybody can tell in advance, the spilling of salt is as
likely to import bad luck as the bite of a mosquito to
import malaria. Only systematic regulation of the con- '
ditions under which observations are made and severe
discipline of the habits of entertaining suggestions can
secure a decision that one type of belief is vicious and
the other sound. The substitution of scientific for
superstitious habits of inference has not been brought
about by any improvement in the acuteness of the
senses or in the natural workings of the function of
suggestion. It is the result of regulation of the condi-
tions under which observation and inference take
place.

22 HOW WE THINK

It is instructive to note some of the attempts that
have been made to classify the main sources of error in
reaching beliefs. Francis Bacon, for example, at the
beginnings of modern scientific inquiry, enumerated
four such classes, under the somewhat fantastic title of
"idols" (Gr. eiSaiXa, images), spectral forms that allure
the mind into false paths. These he called the idols, or
phantoms, of the (a) tribe, (3) the market-place, (c) the
cave or den, and (d) the theater; or, less metaphorically,
(«) standing erroneous methods (or at least temptations
to error) that have their roots in human nature gener-
ally ; (3) those that come from intercourse and language,;
{c) those that are due to causes peculiar to a specific
individual ; and finally, {d) those that have their sources
in the fashion or general current of a period. Classify-
ing these causes of fallacious belief somewhat differently,
we may say that two are intrinsic and two are extrinsic.
Of the intrinsic, one is common to all men alike (such
as the universal tendency to notice instances that cor-
roborate a favorite belief more readily than those that
contradict it), while the other resides in the specific
temperament and habits of the given individual. Of
the extrinsic, one proceeds from generic social condi-
tions — like the tendency to suppose that there is a
fact wherever there is a word, and no fact where there
is no linguistic term — while the other proceeds from
local and temporary social currents.

Locke's method of dealing with typical forms of
wrong behef is less formal and may be more enlight-
ening. We can hardly do better than quote his forcible
and quaint language, when, enumerating different classes
of men, he shows different ways in which thought goes ■
wrong :

THE NEED FOR TRAINING THOUGHT 23

1. "The first is of those who seldom reason at all, (a) depend-
but do and think according to the example of others, others"
whether parents, neighbors, ministers, or who else they

are pleased to make choice of to have an implicit faith
in, for the saving of themselves the pains and troubles
of thinking and examining for themselves."

2. "This kind is of those who put passion in the (&) self-
place of reason, and being resolved that shall govern "* "^ '
their actions and arguments, neither use their own, nor
hearken to other people's reason, any farther than it

suits their humor, interest, or party." ^

3. " The third sort is of those who readily and sin- (c) circam-
cerely follow reason, but for want of having that which ^"^"^^Ljg
one may call large, sound, roundabout sense, have not

a full view of all that relates to the question. . . . They
converse but with one sort of men, they read but one,
sort of books, they will not come in the hearing but of
one sort of notions. . . . They have a pretty traffic
with known correspondents in some little creek . . .
but will not venture out into the great ocean of knowl-
edge." Men of originally equal natural parts may
finally arrive at very different stores of knowledge and
truth, " when all the odds between them has been the
different scope that has been given to their understand-
ings to range in, for the gathering up of information
and furnishing their Ijeads with ideas and notions and
observations, whereon to employ their mind."^

1 In another place he says : " Men's prejudices and inchnations impose
.often upon themselves. . . . Inclination suggests and slides into dis-
; course favorable terms, which introduce favorable ideas; till at last by
'•this means that is concluded clear and evident, thus dressed up, which,
Staken in its native state, by making use of none but precise determined
(ideas, would find no admittance at all."

2 The Conduct of the Understanding, § 3.

24

HOW WE THINK

In another portion of his writings,^ Locke states the
same ideas in slightly different form.

1. " That which is inconsistent with our principles is
so far from passing for probable with us that it will
not be allowed possible. The reverence borne to these
principles is so great, and their authority so paramount
to all other, that the testimony, not only of other men,
but the evidence of our own senses are often rejected,
when they offer to vouch anything contrary to these es-
tablished rules. . . . There is nothing more ordinary
than children's receiving into their minds propositions
. . . from their parents, nurses, or those about them;
which being insinuated in their unwary as well as un-
biased understandings, and fastened by degrees, are at
last (and this whether true or false) riveted the-e by
long custom and education, beyond all possibility of
being pulled out again. For men, when they are grown
up, reflecting upon their opinions and finding thoie of
this sort to be as ancient in their minds as their very
memories, not having observed their early insinuation,
nor by what means they got them, they are apt to rever-
ence them as sacred things, and not to suffer them to be
profaned, touched, or questioned." They take them as
standards "to be the great and unerring deciders of
truth and falsehood, and the judges to which they are
to appeal in all manner of controversies."

2. " Secondly, next to these are men whose under-
standings are cast into a mold, and fashioned just to
the size of a received hypothesis." Such men, Locke
goes on to say, while not denying the existence of facts
and evidence, cannot be convinced by the evidence that

^ Essay Concerning Human Understanding, bk. IV, ch. XX, "Of
Wrong Assent or Error."

THE NEED FOR TRAINING THOUGHT 25

would decide them if their minds were not so closed
by adherence to fixed belief.

3. "Predominant Passions. Thirdly, probabilities of strong
which cross men's appetites and prevailing passions P^^^'°°'
run the same fate. Let ever so much probability hang

on one side of a covetous man's reasoning, and money
on the other, it is easy to foresee which will outweigh.
Earthly minds, like mud walls, resist the strongest
batteries.

4. " Authority. The fourth and last wrong measure of depend-
of probability I shall take notice of, and 'which keeps in *"^^"?™
ignorance or error more people than all the others of others
together, is the giving up our assent to the common
received opinions, either of our friends or party, neigh-
borhood or country."

Both Bacon and Locke make it evident that over and Causes of

above the sources of misbelief that reside in the natural J^J ™™t^

iiaoits are

tendencies of the individual (like those toward hasty social as
and too far-reaching conclusions), social conditions tend ^bom^
to instigate and confirm wrong habits of thinking by
authority, by conscious instruction, and by the even
more insidious half-conscious infiuences of language,
imitation, sympathy, and suggestion. Education has
accordingly not only to safeguard an individual against
the besetting erroneous tendencies of his own mind —
its rashness, presumption, and preference of what chimes
with self-interest to objective evidence — but also to
undermine and destroy the accumulated and self-per-
petuating prejudices of long ages. When social life
in general has become more reasonable, more imbued
with rational conviction, and less moved by stiff authority
and Wind passion, educational agencies may be more
positive and constructive than at present, for they will

26 HOW WE THINK

work in harmony with the educative influence exercised
willy-nilly by other social surroundings upon an individ-
ual's habits of thought and behef. At present, the
work of teaching must not only transform natural ten-
dencies into trained habits of thought, but must also
fortify the mind against irrational tendencies current in
the social environment, and help displace erroneous
habits already produced.

§ 4. Regulation Transforms Inference into Proof

Thinking is important because, as we have seen, it is
that function in which given or ascertained facts stand
for or indicate others which are not directly ascertained.
But the process of reaching the absent from the present
is pecuUarly exposed to error; it is liable to be influ-
enced by almost any number of unseen and unconsid-
ered causes, — past experience, received dogmas, the
stirring of self-interest, the arousing of passion, sheer
mental laziness, a social environment steeped in biased
traditions or animated by false expectations, and so
on. The exercise of thought is, in the literal sense of
that word, inference ; by it one thing carries us over to
the idea of, and belief in, another thing. It involves a
jump, a leap, a going beyond what is surely known to
something else accepted on its warrant. Unless one
is an idiot, one simply cannot help having all thingsj
and events suggest other things not actually present,
nor can one help a tendency to believe in the lattery
on the basis of the former. The very inevitableness'
of the jump, the leap, to something unknown, only'
emphasizes the necessity of attention to the conditions '
under which it occurs so that the danger of a false step
may be lessened and the probability of a right landing
increased.

THE NEED FOR TRAINING THOUGHT 27

Such attention consists in regulation ( i ) of the con- Hence, the
ditions under which the function of suggestion takes i°yon*"^"'
place, and (2) of the conditions under which credence is wuch, when
yielded to the suggestions that occur. Inference con- ^^k^sTroof
trolled in these two ways (the study of which in detail
constitutes one of the chief objects of this book) forms
proof. To prove a thing means primarily to try, to
test it. The guest bidden to the wedding feast excused
himself because he had to prove his oxen. Exceptions
are said to prove a rule ; i.e. they furnish instances so
extreme that they try in the severest fashion its applica-
bility ; if the rule will stand such a test, there is no good
reason for further doubting it. Not until a thing has
■been tried — "tried out," in colloquial language — do
we know its true worth. Till then it may be pretense,
a bluff. But the thing that has come out victorious in
a test or trial of strength carries its credentials with it ;
4t is approved, because it has been proved. Its value is
clearly evinced, shown, i.e. demonstrated. So it is with
jjiferences. The mere fact that inference in general is
in invaluable function does not guarantee, nor does it
.;ven help out the correctness of any particular inference.
Any infere nce m ay go astray j_and^ a,s we hav e seen,
here are standing influences ever ready to assist its
,.:;oing wrong. What is important, is that every inference

,.hall be a tested inference ; or (since often this is not
To . .

.lossible) that we shall discriminate between beliefs that

•jest upon tested evidence and those that do not, and shall'
e accordingly on our guard as to the kind and degree of

tssent yielded.
While it is not the business of education to prove The office of

very s/atement made, any more than to teach every j^fo^"
ossible item of information, it is its business to culti- skuied

28 HOW WE THINK

powers of vate deep-seated and effective habits of discriminat-
thmMng jj^g tested beliefs from mere assertions, guesses, and
opinions ; to develop a lively, sincere, and operi-minded
preference for conclusions that are properly grounded,
and to ingrain into the individual's working habits
methods of inquiry and reasoning appropriate to the
various problems that present themselves. No matter
I how much an individual knows as a matter of hearsay
and information, if hS'ilas not attitvjdes and habits of
this sort, he is not intellectually educated. He lacks the
rudiments of mental discipline. And since these habits
are not a gift of nature (no matter how strong the ap-
titude for acquiring them); since, moreover, the casual
circumstances of the natural and social environment
are not enough to compel their acquisition, the main
office of education is to supply conditions that make for
their cultivation. The formation of these habits is the
Training of Mind.

CHAPTER THREE

NATURAL RESOURCES IN THE TRAINING OF
THOUGHT

In the last chapter -we considered the need of trans-
forming, through training, the natural capacities of in-
ference into habits of critical examination and inquiry.
The very importance of thought for life makes necessary
its control by education because of its natural tendency
to go astray, and because social influences exist that tend
to form habits of thought leading to inadequate and
erroneous behefs. Traminjy must , hnwever, b ^..i!:^^""'y°nr''
ba sed upon the natural tendencieSj^ ^^rthat is, it must find ^e TraLed"
its point of departure in theiitL A being who could not
think without training could never be trained to think ;
one may have to learn to think well, but not to think.
Training, in short, must fall back upon the prior and
independent existence of natural powers ; it is con-
cerned with their proper direction, not with creating
them.

Teaching and learning are correlative or correspond-
ing processes, as much so as selling and buying. One
might as well say he has sold when no one has bought,
as to say that he has taught when no one has learned.
And in the educational transaction, the initiative lies Hence, the
with the learner even more than in commerce it lies with °^J^^\^
the buyer. If an individual can learn to think only in the initiative
the sense of learning to employ more economically and

29

30

HOW WE THINK

effectively powers he already possesses, even more truly
one can teach others to think only in the sense of ap-
pealing to and fostering powers already active in them.
Effective appeal of this kind is impossible unless the
teacher has an insight into existing habits and tenden-
cies, the natural resources with which he has to ally
himself.

Any inventory of the items of this natural capital is
somewhat arbitrary because it must pass over many of
the complex details. But a statement of the factors
essential to thought will put before us in outline the
main elements. Thinking involves (as we have seen)
the suggestion of a conclusion for acceptance, and also
search or inquiry to test the value of the suggestion be-
fore finally accepting it. This implies (a) a certain fund
or store of experiences and facts from which sugges.
tions proceed; (^) promptness, flexibility, and fertility
of suggestions ; and (c) orderliness, consecutiveness,
appropriateness in what is suggested. Clearly, a person
may be hampered in any of these three regards : His
thinking may be irrelevant, narrow, or crude because
he has not enough actual material upon which to base
conclusions; or because concrete facts and raw material,
even if extensive and bulky, fail to evoke suggestions
easily and richly ; or finally, because, even when these
two conditions are fulfilled, the ideas suggested are in-
coherent and fantastic, rather than pertinent and con-
sistent.

§ I. Curiosity

Desire for The most vital and significant factor in supplying the

experience: PJ'iraary material whence suggestion may issue is, with-
out doubt, curiosity. The wisest of the Greeks used to

NATURAL RESOURCES IN TRAINING THOUGHT 31

say that wonder is the mother of all science. An inert ^
mind waits, as it were, for experiences to be imperiously-
forced upon it. The pregnant saying of Words-
worth :

" The eye — it cannot choose but see ;
We cannot bid the ear be still ;
Our bodies feel, where'er they be,
Against or with our will " —

holds good in the degree in which one is naturally pos-
sessed by curiosity. The curious mind is constantly
alert and exploring, seeking material for thought, as a
vigorous and healthy body is on the qui vive for
nutriment. Eagerness for experience, for new and
varied contacts, is found where wonder is found. Such
curiosity is the only sure guarantee of the acquisition
of the primary facts upon which inference must base
itself.

{a) In its first manifestations, curiosity is a vital over-
flow, an expression of an abundant organic energy. A
physiological uneasiness leads, a child to be "into every-
thing," — to be reaching, poking, pounding, prying.
Observers of animals have noted what one author calls
" their inveterate tendency to fool." " Rats run about,
smell, dig, or gnaw, without real reference to the busi-
ness in hand. In the same way Jack [a dogj scrabbles
and jumps, the kitten wanders and picks, the otter slips
about everywhere like ground lightning, the elephant
fumbles ceaselessly, the monkey pull^ things about." ^
The most casual notice of the activities of a young child
reveals a ceaseless display of exploring and testing ac-
tivity. Objects are sucked, fingered, and thumped;
drawn and pushed, handled and thrown ; in short, experi-

1 Hobhouse, Mind in Evolution, p. 195.

32

HOW WE THINK

mented with, till they cease to yield new qualities. Such
activities are hardly intellectual, and yet without them
intellectual activity would be feeble and intermittent
through lack of stuff for its operations.

{b) A higher stage of curiosity develops under the in-
fluence of social stimuli. When the child learns that he
can appeal to others to eke out his store of experiences,
so that, if objects fail to respond interestingly to his ex-
periments, he may call upon persons to provide interest-
ing material, a new epoch sets in. "What is that.?"
" Why .' " become the unfailing signs of a child's pres-
ence. At first this questioning is hardly more than a
projection into social relations of the physical overflow
which earlier kept the child pushing and puUing, open-
ing and shutting. He asks in succession what holds up
the house, what holds up the soil that holds the house,
what holds up the earth that holds the soil ; but bis
questions are not evidence of any genuine consciousness
of rational connections. His why is not a demand for
scientific explanation; the motive behind it is simply
eagerness for a larger acquaintance with the mysterious
world in which he is placed. The search is not for
a law or principle, but only for a bigger fact. Yet
there is more than a desire to accumulate just informa-
tion or heap up disconnected items, although sometimes
the interrogating habit threatens to degenerate into a
mere disease of language. In the feeling, however dim,
that the facts which directly meet the senses are not
the whole story, that there is more behind them and
more to come from them, lies the germ of intellectual
curiosity.

{c) Curiosity rises above the organic and the social
planes and becomes intellectual in the degree in which

NATURAL RESOURCES IN TRAINING THOUGHT 33

it is transformed into interest in problems provoked by
the observation of things and the accumulation of ma-
terial. When the question is not discharged by being
asked of another, when the child continues to entertain
it in his own mind and to be alert for whatever will help
answer it,, curiosity has become a positive intellectual
force. To the open mind, nature and social experience
are full of varied and subtle challenges to look further.
If germinating powers are not used and cultivated at
the right moment, they tend to be transitory, to die out,
or to wane in intensity. This general law is peculiarly
true of sensitiveness to what is uncertain and question-
able ; in a few people, intellectual curiosity is so insati-
able that nothing will discourage it, but in most its edge
is easily dulled and blunted. Bacon's saying that we
must become as little children in order to enter the
kingdom of science is at once a reminder of the open-
minded and flexible wonder of childhood and of the ease
with which this endowment is lost. Some lose it in
indifference or carelessness; others in a frivolous
flippancy; many escape these evils only to become in-
cased in a hard dogmatism which is equally fatal to the
spirit of wonder. Some are so taken up with routine
as to be inaccessible to new facts and problems. Others
retain curiosity only with reference to what concerns
their personal advantage ift their chosen career. With
many, curiosity is arrested on the plane of interest in
local gossip and in the fortunes of their neighbors ; in-
deed, so usual is this result that very often the first
association with the word curiosity is a prying inquisitive-
ness into other people's business. With respect then to
curiosity, the teacher has usually more to learn than to
teach. Rarely can he aspire to the office of kindUng or

34 HOW WE THINK

even increasing it. His task is rather to keep alive the
sacred spark of wonder and to fan the flame that already
glows. His problem is to protect the spirit of inquiry,
to keep it .from becoming blas6 from overexcitement,
wooden from routine, fossilized through dogmatic in-
struction, or dissipated by random exercise upon trivial
things.

§ 2. Suggestion

Out of the subject-matter, whether rich or scanty, im-
portant or trivial, of present experience issue sugges-
tions, ideas, beliefs as to what is not yet given. The
function of suggestion is not one that can be produced
by teaching; while it may be modified for better or
worse by conditions, it cannot be destroyed. Many "a
child has tried his best to see if he could not " stop
thinking," but the flow of suggestions goes on in spite
of our will, quite as surely as " our bodies feel, where'er
they be, against or with our will." Primarily, naturally,
it is not we who think, in any actively responsible sense ;
thinking is rather something that happens in us^ Only
so far as one has acquired control of the method in
which the function of suggestion occurs and has ac-
cepted responsibility^ for its consequences, can-ane truth-
fully say, " /think so and so."

The function of suggestion has a variety of aspects (or
dimensions as we may term them), varying in different
persons, both in themselves^ and in their mode of com-
(bination. These dimensions are ease or promptness,
j extent or variety, and depth or persistence. («) The
common classification of persons into the dull and the
bright is made primarily on the basis of the readiness or
facility with which suggestions follow upon the presenta-

NATURAL RESOURCES IN TRAINING THOUGHT 35

tion of objects and upon the happening of events. As the
metaphor of dull and bright implies, some minds are im-
pervious, or else they absorb passively. Everything pre-
sented is lost in a drab monotony that gives nothing
back. But others reflect, or give back in varied lights,
all that strikes upon them. The dull make no response ;
the bright flash back the fact with a changed quality.
An inert or stupid mind requires a heavy jolt or an in-
tense shock to move it to suggestion ; the bright mind
is quick, is alert to react with interpretation and sugges-
tion of consequences to follow.

Yet the teacher is not entitled to assume stupidity or
even dullness merely because of irresponsiveness to
school subjects or to a lesson as presented by text-book
or teacher. The pupil labeled hopeless may react in
quick and lively fashion when the thing-in-hand seems
to him worth while, as some out-of-school sport or social
affair. Indeed, the school subject might move him,
were it set in a different context and treated by a
different method. A boy dull in geometry may prove
qiiick enough when he takes up the subject in connec-
tion with manual training ; the girl who seems inacces-
sible to historical facts may respond promptly when it is* a
question of judging the character and deeds of people of
her acquaintance or of fiction. Barring physical defect ,
or disease, slowness and dullness in all directions are /
comparatively rare.

(<5) Irrespective of the difference in persons as to the (S) range
ease and promptness with which ideas respond to
facts, there is a difference in the number or range of the
suggestions that occur. We speak truly, in some cases,
of the flood of suggestions ; in others, there is but a
slender trickle. Occasionally, slowness of outward

36 HOW WE THINK

response is due to a great variety of suggestions which
check one another and lead to hesitation and suspense ;
while a lively and prompt suggestion may take such
possession of the mind as to preclude the development
of others. Too few suggestions indicate a dry and
meager mental habit; when this is joined to great learn-
ing, there results a pedant or a Gradgrind. Such a
person's mind rings hard ; he is likely to bore others
with mere bulk of information. He contrasts with the
person whom we call ripe, juicy, and mellow.

A conclusion reached after consideration of a few
alternatives may be formally correct, but it will not
possess the fullness and richness of meaning of one ar-
rived at after comparison of a greater variety of alterna-
tive suggestions. On the other hand, suggestions may
be too numerous and too varied for the best interests of
mental habit. So many suggestions may rise that the
person is at a loss to select among them. He finds it
difficult to reach any definite conclusion and wanders
more or less helplessly among them. So much suggests
itself /ra and con, one thing leads on to another so nat-
urally, that he finds it difficult to decide in practical affairs
or to conclude in matters of theory. There is such a
thing as too much thinking, as when action is paralyzed
by the multiplicity of views suggested by a situation.
Or again, the very number of suggestions may be hostile
to tracing logical sequences among them, for it may
tempt the mind away from the necessary but trying task
of search for real connections, into the more congenial
occupation of embroidering upon the given facts a
tissue of agreeable fancies. The best mental habit
involves a balance between paucity and redundancy of
suggestions.

NATURAL RESOURCES IN TRAINING THOUGHT 37

(c) Depth. We distinguish between people not only ('') P50-
upon the basis of their quickness and fertility of intel- ""^^^
lectual response, but also with respect to the plane upon
which it occurs — the intrinsic quality of the response.

One man's thought is profound while another's is su-
perficiaL;_-iine-goes to the roots of the matter, and another
touches hghtly its most external aspects. This phase
of thinking is perhaps the most untaught of all, and the
least amenable to external influence whether for improve-
ment or Earm. Nevertheless, the conditions of the
pupil's contact with subject-matter may be such that he
is compelled to come to quarters with its more signifi-
cant features, or such that he is encouraged to deal
with it upon the basis of what is trivial. The common
assumptions that, if the pupil only thinks, one thought is
just as good for his mental discipline as another, and
that the end of study is the amassing of information,
both tend to foster superficial, at the expense of signifi-
cant, thought. Pupils who in matters of ordinary practi-
cal experience have a ready and acute perception of the
difference between the significant and the meaningless,
often reach in school subjects a point where all things
seem equally important or equally unimportant ; where
one thing is just as likely to be true as another, and
where intellectual effort is expended not in discriminat-
ing between things, but in trying to make verbal con-
nections among words.

Sometimes slowness and depth of response are inti- Balance
mately connected. Time is required^ in order to digest °* ™™^
impressions, and translate them into substantial ideas.
" Brightness " may be but a flash in the pan. The " slow
but sure " person, whether man or child, is one in whom
impressions sink and accumulate, so that thinking is done

38

HOW WE THINK

at a deeper level of value than with a slighter load.
Many a child is rebuked for "slowness," for not "an-
swering promptly," when his forces are taking time to
gather themselves together to deal effectively with the
problem at hand. In such cases, failure to afford time
and leisure conduce to habits of speedy, but snapshot
and superficial, judgment. The depth to which a sense
of the problem, of the difficulty, sinks, determines the
quality of the thinking that follows ; and any habit of
teaching which encourages the pupil for the sake of a
successful recitation or of a display of memorized in-
formation to glide over the thin ice of genuine problems
reverses the true method of mind training.

It is profitable to study the lives of men and women
who achieve in adult life fine things in their respective
callings, but who were called dull in their school days.
Sometimes the early wrong judgment was due mainly
to the fact that the direction in which the child showed
his ability was not one recognized by the good old
standards in use, as in the case of Darwin's interest in
beetles, snakes, and frogs. Sometimes it was due to
the fact that the child dwelling habitually on a deeper
plane of reflection than other pupils — or than his
teachers — did not show to advantage when prompt
answers of the usual sort were expected. Sometimes it
was due to the fact that the pupil's natural mode of
approach clashed habitually with that of the text or
teacher, and the method of the latter was assumed as
an absolute basis of estimate.

In any event, it is desirable that the teacher should
rid himself of the notion that "thinking" is a single,
unalterable faculty ; that he should recognize that it is a
term denoting the various ways in which things acquire

NATURAL RESOURCES IN TRAINING THOUGHT 39

significance. It is desirable to expel also the kindred no-
tion that some subjects are inherently " intellectual," and
hence possessed of an almost magical power to train the
faculty of thought. Thinking is specific, not a machine-
like, ready-made apparatus to be turned indifferently
and at will upon all subjects, as a lantern may throw its
hght as it happens upon horses, streets, gardens, trees,
or river. Thinking is specific, in that different things
suggest their own appropriate meanings, tell their own
unique stories, and in that they do this in very differ-
ent ways with different persons. As the growth of
the body is through the assimilation of food, so the
growth of mind is through the logical organization
of subject-matter. Thinking is not like a sausage
machine which reduces all materials indifferently to one
marketable commodity, but is a power of following up
and linking together the specific suggestions that
specific things arouse. Accordingly, any subject, from
Greek to cooking, and from drawing to mathematics, is
intellectual, if intellectual at all, not in its fixed inner
structure, but in its function — in its power to start and
direct significant inquiry and reflection. What geometry
does for one, the manipulation of laboratory apparatus,
the mastery of a musical composition, or the conduct of
a business affair, may do for another.

§ 3. Orderliness : Its Nature

Facts, whether narrow or extensive, and conclusions
suggested by them, whether many or few, do not con-
stitute, even when combined, reflective thought. The
suggestions must be organized ; they must be arranged
with reference to one another and with reference to
the facts on which they depend for proof, When the

40 HOW WE THINK

factors of facility, of fertility, and of depth are properly
balanced or proportioned, we get as the outcome conti-
nuity of thought. We desire neither the slow mind nor
yet the hasty. We wish neither random diffuseness
nor fixed rigidity. Consecutiveness means flexibility
and variety of materials, conjoined with singleness and
definiteness of direction. It is opposed both to a me-
chanical routine uniformity and to a grasshopper-like
movement. Of bright children, it is not infrequently
said that " they might do anything, if only they settled
down," so quick and apt are they in any particular re-
sponse. But, alas, they rarely settle.

On the other hand, it is not enough not to be diverted.
A deadly and fanatic consistency is not our goal. Con-
centration does not mean fixity, nor a cramped arrest or
paralysis of the flow of suggestion. It means variety
and change of ideas combined into a single steady trend
moving toward a unified conclusion. Thoughts are con-
centrated not by being kept still and quiescent, but
by being kept moving toward an object, as a general
concentrates his troops for attack or defense. Holding
the mind to a subject is like holding a ship to its course;
it implies constant change of place combined with unity
of direction. Consistent and orderly thinking is precisely
such a change of subject-matter. Consistency is no
more the mere absence of contradiction than concentra-
tion is the mere absence of diversion — which exists in
dull routine or in a person " fast asleep." All kinds of
varied and incompatible suggestions may sprout and be
followed in their growth, and yet thinking be consistent
and orderly, provided each one of the suggestions is
viewed in relation to the main topic.

In the main, for most persons, the primary resource

NATURAL RESOURCES IN TRAINING THOUGHT 41

in the development of orderly habits of thought is in-
direct, not direct. Intellectual organization originates
and for a time grows as an accompaniment of the or-
ganization of the acts required to realize an end, not as
the result of a direct appeal to thinking power. The
need of thinking to accomplish something beyond think-
ing is more potent than thinking for its own sake. All
people at the outset, and the majority of people probably
all their lives, attain ordering/ of thought through order-
ing of action. Adults normally carry on some occupation,
profession, pursuit ; and this furnishes the continuous
axis about which their knowledge, their beliefs, and their
habits of reaching and testing conclusions are organized.
Observations that have to do with the efficient perform-
ance of their calling are extended and rendered precise.
Information related to it is not merely amassed and
then left in a heap ; it is classified and subdivided so as
to be available as it is needed. Inferences are made by
most men not from purely speculative motives, but be-
cause they are involved in the efficient performance
of "the duties involved in their several callings."
Thus their inferences are constantly tested by results
achieved ; futile and scattering methods tend to be dis-
counted; orderly arrangements have a premium put
upon them. The event, the issue, stands as a constant
check on the thinking that has led up to it ; and this
discipline by efficiency in action is the chief sanction, in
practically all who are not scientific specialists, of order-
liness of thought.

Such a resource — the main prop of disciplined think-
ing in adult life — is not to be despised in training the
young in right intellectual habits. There are, however,
profound differences between the immature and the

43 HOW WE THINK

adult in the matter of organized activity — differences
which must be taken seriously into account in any
educational use of activities : (i) The external achieve-
ment resulting from activity is a more urgent necessity
with the adult, and hence is with him a more effective
means of discipline of mind than with the child; (m) The
ends of adult activity are more specialized than those of
child activity.

(J) The selection and arrangement of appropriate
lines of action is a much more difficult problem as re-
spects youth than it is in the case of adults. With the
latter, the main lines are more or less settled by circum-
stances. The social status of the adult, the fact that he
is a citizen, a householder, a parent, one occupied in
some regular industrial or professional calling, prescribes
the chief features of the acts to be performed, and
secures, somewhat automatically, as it were, appropriate
and related modes of thinking. But with the child there
is no such fixity of status and pursuit ; there is almost
nothing to dictate that such and such a consecutive line
of action, rather than another, should be followed, while
the will of others, his own caprice, and circumstances
about him tend to produce an isolated momentary act
The absence of continued motivation cooperates with the
inner plasticity of the immature to increase the importance
of educational training and the difficulties in the way of
finding consecutive modes of activities which may do for
child and youth what serious vocations and functions do
for the adult. In the case of children, the choice is so
peculiarly exposed to arbitrary factors, to mere school
traditions, to waves of pedagogical fad and fancy, to
fluctuating social cross currents, that sometimes, in sheer
disgust at the inadequacy of results, a reaction occurs

NATURAL RESOURCES IN TRAINING THOUGHT 43

to the total neglect of overt activity as an educational
factor, and a recourse to purely theoretical subjects and
methods.

(«) This very difficulty, however, points to the fact Peculiar
that the opportunity for selecting truly educative activi- ^^^
ties is indefinitely greater in child life than in adult, children
The factor of external pressure is so strong with most
adults that the educative value of the pursuit — its reflex
influence upon intelligence and character — however
genuine, is incidental, and frequently almost accidental.
The problem and the opportunity with the young is
selection of orderly and continuous modes of occupa-
tion, which, while they lead up to and prepare for the
indispensable activities of adult life, have their own
sufficient justification in their present reflex influence
upon the formation of habits of thought.

Educational practice shows a continual tendency to Action and
oscillate between two extremes with respect to overt between
and exertive activities. One extreme is to neglect them extremes
almost en tirely, on the ground that they are chaotic and
fluctuating, mere diversipns appealing to the transitory
unformed taste and caprice of imm^ature minds ; or if
they avoid this e vil, are objectionable copies- .of _±lie
highly specialized, and more or less commercial, activ-
ities of adult life. If activities are admitted at all into
the school, thp admission is a grudging concession to
the necessity of having occasional relief from the strain
of constant intellectual work, or to the clamor of outside
utilitarian demands upon the school. The other extreme

■ is an enthusiastic belief in the almost magical edu-
r ative efficac y of any kind of activity, granted it is

■ an activity and not a passive absorption of academic
J and theoretic material. The conceptions of play, of

44 HOW WE THINK

self-expression, of natural growth, are appealed to al-
most as if they meant that opportunity for any kind of
spontaneous activity inevitably secures the due training
of mental power ; or a mythological brain physiology is
appealed to as proof that any exercise of the muscles
trains power of thought.
Locating the While we vibrate from one of these extremes to the
educatixin* Other, the most serious of all problems is ignored :
the problem, namely, of discovering and arranging the
forms of activity (a) which are most congenial, best
adapted, to the immature stage of development ; (3) -wjhich
have the most ulterior promise as preparation for the
social responsibilities of adult Hfe ; and {c) which, at the
same time, have the maximum of influence in forming
habits of acute observation and of consecutive infer-
ence. As curiosity is related to the acquisition of ma-
terial of thought, as suggestion is related to flexibility
^rid force of thought, so the o^Jering of activities, not
theTnwrfrer'pTlffiariiy intellectual, is related to the form-
ing of intellectual powers of consecutiveness.

CHAPTER FOUR
SCHOOL CONDITIONS AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT

§ I. Introductory : Methods and Conditions

The so-called faculty-psychology went hand in hand Formal
with the vogue of the formal-discipline idea in education, ^soipiine
If thought is a distinct piece of mental machinery,
separate from observation, memory, imagination, and
common-sense judgments of persons and things, then
thought should be trained by special exercises designed
for the purpose, as one might devise special exercises
for developing the biceps muscjes. Certain subjects are
then to be regarded as intellectual or logical subjeots
par excellence, possessed of a predestined fitness to exer-
cise the thought-faculty, just as certain machines are
better than others for developing arm power. With
thesethree notions goe s the four th, that method consists
of a set'"or bperSETons by which the machinery of thought
is set^OISg and kept at work upon any subject-matter.

We have tried to make it clear in the previous chap- versus
ters that there is no single and uniform power of !f^j.
thought, but a multitude of different ways in which
specific things — things observed, remembered, heard of,
read about — evoke suggjestions or ideas that are per-
tinent to the occasion and fruitful in the sequel. Train-'
ing is such development of curiosity, suggestion, and
habits of exploring and testing, as increases their scope

45

46 HOW WE THINK

and efficiency. A subject — any subject — is intellec-
tual in the degree in which with any given person it
succeeds in effecting this growth. On this view the
fourth factor, method, is concerned with providing con-
ditions so adapted to individual needs and powers as
to make for the permanent improvement of observation,
suggestion, and investigation.

The teacher's problem is thus twofold. On the one
side, he needs (as we saw in the last chapter) to be a
student of individual traits and habits ; on the other side,
he needs to be a student of the conditions that modify
for better or worse the directions in which individual
powers habitually express themselves. He needs to rec-
ognize that method covers not only what he inteiitibnally
devises and employs for the purpose of mental training,
but also what he does without any conscious reference
to it, — anything in the atmosphere and conduct of
the school which reacts in any way upon the curiosity,
the responsiveness, and the orderly activity of chil-
dren. The teacher who is an intelligent student both of
individual mental operations and of the effects of school
conditions upon those operations, can largely be trusted
to develop for himself methods of instruction in their nar-
rower and more technical sense — those best adapted to
achieve results in particular subjects, such as reading,
geography, or algebra. In the hands of one who is not
intelligently aware of individual capacities and of the in-
fluence unconsciously exerted upon them by the entire
environment, even the best of technical methods are
likely to get an immediate result only at the expense of
deep-seated and persistent habits. We may group the
conditioning influences of the school environment under
three heads : (i) the mental attitudes and habits of the

SCHOOL CONDITIONS AND TRAINING THOUGHT 47

persons with whom the child is in contact ; (2) the sub-
jects studied ; (3) current educational aims and ideals.

§ 2. Influence of the Habits of Others

Bare reference to the imitativeness of human nature
is enough to suggest how profoundly the mental habits
of others affect the attitude of the one being trained.
Example is more potent than precept ; and a teacher's
best conscious efforts may be more than counteracted by
the influence of personal traits which he is unaware of
or regards as unimportant. Methods of instruction and
discipline that are technically faulty may be rendered
practically innocuous by the inspiration of the personal
method that lies back of them.

To confine, however, the conditioning influence of the Response to
educator, whether parent or teacher, to imitation is to |„^a^^^
get a very superficial view of the intellectual influence in method
of others. Imitation is but one case of a deeper prin-
ciple — that of stimulus and response. Everything the
teacher does, as well as the manner in which he does it,
incites the child to respond in some way or other, and
each response tends to set the child ' j attitude in some way
or other. Even the inattention of the child to the adult
is often a mode of response which is the result of un-
conscious training.^ The teacher is rarely (and even
then never entirely) a transparent medium of access by
another mind to a subject. With the young, the in-
fluence of the teacher's personality is intimately fused
with that of the subject; the child does not separate

1 A child of four or five who had been repeatedly called to the house
by his mother with no apparent response on his own part, was asked if he
did not hear her. He rephed quite judicially, " Oh, yes, but she doesn't
call very mad yet."

48

HOW WE THINK

nor even distinguish the two. And as the child's re-
sponse is toward or away from anything presented, he
keeps up a running commentary, of which he himself is
hardly distinctly aware, of like and dislike, of sympathy
and aversion, not merely to the acts of the teacher, but
also to the subject with which the teacher is occupied.

The extent and power of this influence upon morals
and manners, upon character, upon habits of speech
and social bearing, are almost universally recognized.
But the tendency to conceive of thought as an isolated
faculty has often blinded teachers to the fact that
this influence is just as real and pervasive in intellec-
tual concerns. Teachers, as well as children, stick
more or less to the main points, have more or less
wooden and rigid methods of response, and display more
or less intellectual' curiosity about matters that come up.*
And every trait of this kind is an inevitable part of the
teacher's method of teaching. Merely to accept with-
out notice sHpshod habits of speech, slovenly inferences,
unimaginative and literal response, is to indorse these
tendencies, and to ratify them into habits — and so it
goes throughout the whole range of contact between
teacher and student. In this complex and intricate
field, two or three points may well be singled out for
special notice, (a) Most persons are quite unaware of
the distinguishing pecuHarities of their own mental
habit. They take their own mental operations for
granted, and unconsciously make them the standard for
judging the mental processes of others.^ Hence there

1 People who have number-forms — i.e. project number series into
space and see them arranged in certain shapes — when asked why they
have not mentioned th* fact before, often reply that it never occurred to
them; they supposed that everybody had the same power.

SCHOOL CONDITIONS AND TRAINING THOUGHT 49

is a tendency to encourage everything in the pupil
which agrees with this attitude, and to neglect or fail
to understand whatever is incongruous with it. The
prevalent overestimation of the value, for mind-train-
ing, of theoretic subjects as compared with practical
pursuits, is doubtless due partly to the fact that the
teacher's calling tends to select those in whom the
theoretic interest is specially strong and to repel those
in whom executive abilities are marked. Teachers
sifted out on this basis judge pupils and subjects by a
like standard, encouraging an intellectual one-sidedness
in those to whom it is naturally congenial, and repelling
from study those in whom practical instincts are more
urgent.

(^) Teachers — and this holds especially of the stronger Exaggera-
and better teachers — tend to rely upon their personal t'o""*^"**

-' ^ *\ personal

strong^points to hold a child to his work, and thereby influence
to substitute their personal influence for that of subject-
matter as a motive for study. The teacher finds by
experience that his own personality is often effective
where the power of the subject to command attention
is almost nil; then he utilizes the former more and
more, until the pupil's relation to the teacher almost
takes the place of his relation to the subject. In this
>way the teacher's personality may become a source of
personal dependence and weakness, an influence that
renders the pupil indifferent to the value of the subject
for its own sake.

(c) The operation of the teacher's own mental habit independent
tends, unless carefully watched and guided, to make ^^™^°^
the child a student of the teacher's peculiarities rather "gettingthe
than of the subjects that he is supposed to study. His *"^'"*''
chief concern is to accommodate himself to what the

50 HOW WE THINK

teacher expects of hi|^:ather than to devote himself
energetically to the pi'^i|^V of subject-matter. " Is this
right?" comes to mean^fcll this answer or this pro-
cess satisfy the teacher ? " — ^fc;tead of meaning, " Does
it satisfy the inherent condition^of the problem ? " It
would be folly to deny the legitiH^y or the value of
the study of human nature that cn^ken carry on in
school; but it is obviously undesirable ihat their chief
intellectual problem should be that of pWliucing an
answer approved by the teacher, and their sta!|[ferd of
success be successful adaptation to the requiremenl^f
another. ^V

§ 3. Influence of the Nature of Studies

Types Studies are conventionally and conveniently grouped

° ^ " ** under these heads : (i) Those especially involving the
acquisition of skill in performance — the school arts,
such as reading, writing, figuring, and music. (2) Those
mainly concerned with acquiring knowledge — "infor-
mational " studies, such as geography and history. (3)
Those in which skill in doing and bulk of information
are relatively less important, and appeal to abstract
thinking, to "reasoning," is most marked — "disciplin-
ary " studies, such as arithmetic and formal grammar.^
Each of these groups of subjects has its own special
pitfalls.
The abstract (a) In the case of the so-called discipHnary or pre-
fs^oiated ^eminently logical studies, there is danger of the isola-
/-^/tion of intellectual activity from the ordinary affairs

' Of course, any one subject has all three aspects : e.g. in arithmetic,
counting, writing, and reading numbers, rapid adding, etc., are cases of
skill in doing ; the tables of weights and measures are a matter of infor-
mation, etc.

SCHOOL CONDITIONS AND TRAINING THOUGHT 5 1

of life. Teacher and student alike tend to set up a
chasm between logical thought, as something abstract
and remote, and the specific and concrete demands of
everyday events. The abstract tends to' become so
aloof, so far away from application, as to be cut loose
from practical and moral bearing. The gullibility of
specialized scholars when out of their own lines, their ex-
travagant habits of inference and speech, their ineptness
in reaching conclusions in practical matters, their ego-
tistical engrossment in their own subjects, are extreme
examples of the bad effects of severing studies com-
pletely from their ordinary connections in life.
, (b) The danger in those studies where the main em- Overdoing
phasis is upon acquisition of skill is just the reverse. ^Jxajl *""
The tendency is to take the shortest cuts possible to automatic
gain the required end. This makes the subjects me- (/fl)
chanical, and thus restrictive of intellectual power. In
the mastery of readin g, wrWjig, dra wing , laboratory tech-
nique, etc., the need of -economy of time an d mate rial,
of neatness and accuracy, of promptness and uniformity,
is so great that tnese things tend to become ends in
themselves, irrespective of their influence upon general
mental attitude. Sheer imitation, dictation of steps to
be taken, mechanical drill, may give results most
quickly and yet strengthen traits likely to be fatal
to reflective power. The pupil is enjoined to do this
and that specific thing, with no knowledge of any rea-
son except that by so doing he gets his result most
speedily; his mistakes are pointed out and corrected
for him ; he is kept at pure repetition of certain acts
till they become automatic. Later, teachers wonder
why the pupil reads with so little expression, and fig-
ures with so little intelligent consideration of the terms

52 HOW WE THINK

'Drill" of his problem. In some educational dogmas and prac-
tices, the very idea of training mind seems to be hope-
lessly confused with that of a drill which hardly touches
mind at all — or touches it for the worse — since it is
wholly taken up with training skill in external execution.
This method reduces the " training " of human beings
to the level of animal training. Practical skill, modes
of effective technique, can be intelligently, non-mechani-
cally used, only when intelUgence has played a part in
their acquisition.

{c) Much the same sort of thing is to be said regard-
ing studies where emphasis traditionally falls upon
bulk and accuracy of information. The distinction
between information and wisdom is old, and yet requires
constantly to be redrawn. Information is knowledge
which is merely acquired and stored up ; wisdom is knowl-
edge operating in the direction of powers to the better
living of life. Information, merely as information, im-
plies no special training of intellectual capacity ; wisdom
is the finest fruit of that training. In school, amassing
information always tends to escape from the ideal of
wisdom or good judgment. The aim often seems to be
— especially in such a subject as geography — to make
the pupil what has been called a " cyclopedia of useless
information." "Covering the ground" is the primary,
necessity ; the nurture of mind a bad second. Thinking
cannot, of course, go on in a vacuum ; suggestions and
inferences can occur only upon a basis of information
as to matters of fact.

But there is all the difference in the world whether
the acquisition of information is treated as an end in'
itself, or is made an integral portion of the training of
thought. The assumption that information which has

SCHOOL CONDITIONS AND TRAINING THOUGHT 53

been accumulated apart from use in the recognition and
solution of a problem may later on be freely employed
at will by thought is quite false. The skill at the ready
command of intelligence is the skill acquired with
the aid of intelligence ; the only information which,
otherwise than by accident, can be put to logical use is
that acquired in the course of thinking. Because their
knowledge has been achieved in connection with the
needs of specific situations, men of little book-learning are
often able to put to effective use every ounce of knowl-
edge they possess ; while men of vast erudition are often
swamped by the mere bulk of their learning, because
memory, rather than thinking, has been operative in
obtaining it.

|'4. The Influence of Current Aims and Ideals

It is, of course, impossible to separate this somewhat
intangible condition from the points just dealt with;
for automatic skill and quantity of information are edu-
cational ideals which pervade the whole school. We
may distinguish, however, certain tendencies, such as
that to judge education from the standpoint of external
results, instead of from that of the development of per-
sonal attitudes and habits. The ideal of the product, as
against that of the mentzl process by which the product
is attained, shows itself in both instruction and moral
discipline.*

(a) In instruction, the external standard manifests itself External
in the importance attached to the " correct answer." No '^^^^^
one other thing, probably, works so fatally agamst focus- processes
sing the attention of teachers upon the training of mind
as the domination of their minds by the idea that the chief
thing is to get pupils to recite their lessons correctly.

54 HOW WE THINK

As long as this end is uppermost (whether consciously
or unconsciously), training of mind remains an incidental
and secondary consideration. There is no great difficulty
in understanding why this ideal has such vogue. The
large number of pupils to be dealt with, and the tend-
ency of parents and school authorities to demand
speedy and tangible evidence of progress, conspire to
give it currency. Knowledge of subject-matter — not
of children — is alone exacted of teachers by this aim ;
and, moreover, knowledge of subject-matter only in
portions definitely prescribed and laid out, and hence
mastered with comparative ease. Education that takes
as its standard the improvement of the intellectual atti-
tude and method of students demands more serious pre-
paratory training, for it exacts sympathetic and intelli-
gent insight into the workings of individual minds, and
a very wide and flexible command of subject-matter — so
as to be able to select and apply just what is needed
when it is needed. Finally, the securing of external
results is an aim that lends itself naturally to the
mechanics of school administration — to examinations,
marks, gradings, promotions, and so on.

{b) With reference to behavior also, the external
ideal has a great influence. Conformity of acts to pre-
cepts and rules is the easiest, because most mechanical,
standard to employ. It is no part of our present task
to tell just how far dogmatic instruction, or strict adher-
ence to custom, convention, and the commands of a
social superior, should extend in moral training ; but
since problems of conduct are the deepest and most
common of all the problems of life, the ways in which
they are met have an influence that radiates into every
other mental attitude, even those far remote froni any

i

SCHOOL CONDITIONS AND TRAINING THOUGHT 55

direct or conscious moral consideration. Indeed, the
deepest plane of the mental attitude of every one is fixed
by the way in which problems of behavior are treated. If
the function of thought, of serious inquiry and reflection,
is reduced to a minimum in dealing with them, it is not
reasonable to expect habits of thought to exercise great
influence in less important matters. On the other hand,
habits of active inquiry and careful deliberation in the
significant and vital problems of conduct afford the best
guarantee that the general structure of mind will be
reasonable.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE MEANS AND END OF MENTAL TRAINING: THE
PSYCHOLOGICAL AND THE LOGICAL

§ I. Introductory: The Meaning of Logical

In the preceding chapters we have considered (?) what
thinking is ; {ii) the importance of its special training ;
(m) the natural tendencies that lend themselves to its
training; and (?V) sc^e of the special obstacles in the way
of its training uncfer school conditions. We come now
to the relation of logic to the purpose of mental training.

In its broadest sense, any thinking that ends in a
conclusion is logical — whether the conclusion reached
be justified or fallacious ; that is, the term logical covers
both the logically good and the illogical or the logically
bad. In its narrowest sense, the term logical refers
only to what is demonstrated to follow necessarily
from premises that are definite in meaning and that are
either self -evidently true, or that have been previously
proved to be true. Stringency of proof is here the
equivalent of the logical. In this sense mathematics
and formal logic (perhaps as a branch of mathematics)
alone are strictly logical. Logical, however, is used in
a third sense, which is at once more vital and more
practical; to denote, namely, the systematic care, nega-
tive and positive, taken to safeguard reflection so that it
may yield the best results under the given conditions.
If only the word artificial were associated with the idea

56

MEANS AND END OF MENTAL TRAINING 57

of art, or expert skill gained through voluntary appren-
ticeship (instead of suggesting the factitious and unreal),
we might say that logical refers to artificial thought.

In this sense, the word logical is synonymous with Care,
wide-awake, thorough, and careful reflection — thought J^egg^and
in its best sense {ajite, p. s). Reflection is turning a
topic over in various aspects and in various lights so
that nothing significant about it shall be overlooked —
almost as one might turn a stone over to see what its
hidden side is like or what is covered by it. Thoughtful-
ness means, practically, the same thing as careful atten-
tion ; to give our mind to a subject is to give heed to it,
to take pains with it. In speaking of reflection, we
naturally use the words weigh, ponder, deliberate —
terms implying a certain delicate and\crupulous balanc-
ing of things against one another. Closely related names
are scrutiny, examination, consideration, inspection —
terms which imply close and careful vision. Again, to
think is to relate things to one another definitely, to " put
two and two together" as we say. Analogy with the
accuracy and definiteness of mathematical combinations
gives us such expressions as calculate, reckon, account
for ; and even reason itself — ratio. Caution, careful-
ness, thoroughness, definiteness, exactness, orderliness,
methodic arrangement, are, then, the traits by which we
mark off the logical from what is random and casual
on one side, and from what is academic and formal on
the other.

No argument is needed to point out that the edu- Whole
cator is concerned with the logical in its practical and f^^gj^g'^^^j
vital sense. Argument is perhaps needed to show that education is
the intellectual (as distinct from the moral) end of educa- ^^^'^^
tion is entirely and only the logical in this sense ; namely, disposition

58 HOW WE THINK

the formation of careful, alert, and thorough habits of
thinking. The chief difficulty in the way of recognition
of this principle is a false conception of the relation be-
tween the psychological tendencies of an individual and
his logical achievements. If it be assumed — as it is so
frequently — that these have, intrinsically, nothing to do
with each other, then logical training is inevitably re-
garded as something foreign and extraneous, something
to be ingrafted upon the individual from without, so
that it is absurd to identify the object of education with
the development of logical power.

The conception that the psychology of individuals
has no intrinsic connections with logical methods and re-
sults is held, curiously enough, by two opposing schools
of educational theory. To one school, the natural'^ is
to thTioricai P'^™^''y ^'^^ fundamental ; and its tendency is to make
Uttle of distinctly intellectual nurture. Its mottoes are
freedom, self-expression, individuality, spontaneity, play,
interest, natural unfolding, and so on. In its emphasis
upon individual attitude and activity, it sets slight store
upon organized subject-matter, or the material of study,
and conceives method to consist of various devices for
stimulating and evoking, in their natural order of growth,
the native potentialities of individuals.

The other school estimates highly the value of the
logical, but conceives the natural tendency of individ-
uals to be averse, or at least indifferent, to logical
achievement. It relies upon subject-matter — upon
matter already defined and classified. Method, then, has
to do with the devices by which these characteristics
may be imported into a mind naturally reluctant and re-

1 Denoting whatever has to do with the natural constitution and func-
tions of an individual.

Mh-ANS AND END OF MENTAL TRAINING 59

bellious. Hence its mottoes are discipline, instruction,
restraint, voluntary or conscious effort, the necessity of
tasks, and so on. From this point of view studies, identifica-
rather than attitudes and habits, embody the logical j*'"""! ..
factor in education. The mind becomes logical only by subject-
learning to conform to an external subject-matter. To ^^^ig^Velv
produce this conformity, the study should first be ana-
lyzed (by text-book or teacher) into its logical elements ;
then each of these elements should be defined ; finally,
all of the elements should be arranged in series or
classes according to logical formulae or general prin-
ciples. Then the pupil learns the definitions one by
one ; and progressively adding one to another builds up
the logical system, and thereby is himself gradually
imbued, from without, with logical quality.

This description will gain meaning through an illus- illustration
tration. Suppose the subject is geography. The first gg°" apt-
thing is to give its definition, marking it off from every
other subject. Then the various abstract terms upon
which depends the scientific development of the science
are stated and defined one by one — pole, equator,
ecliptic, zone, — from the simpler units to the more com-
plex which are formed out of them ; then the more con-
crete elements are taken in similar series : continent,
island, coast, promontory, cape, isthmus, peninsula,
ocean, lake, coast, gulf, bay, and so on. In acquiring
this material, the mind is supposed not only to gain im-
portant information, but, by accommodating itself to
ready-made logical definitions, generalizations, and clas-
sifications, gradually to acquire logical habits.

This type of method has been appUed to every sub- from
ject taught in the schools — reading, writing, music, ^^^"8
physics, grammar, arithmetic. Drawing, for example.

60 HOW WE THINK

has been taught on the theory that since all pictorial
representation is a matter of combining straight and
curved lines, the simplest procedure is to have the pupil
acquire the abiUty first to draw straight lines in various
positions (horizontal, perpendicular, diagonals at various
angles), then typical curves; and finally, to combine
straight and curved lines in various permutations to con-
struct actual pictures. This seemed to give the ideal
"logical" method, beginning with analysis into ele-
ments, and then proceeding in regular order to more
and more complex syntheses, each element being de-
fined when used, and thereby clearly understood, i^ j

Even when this method in its extreme form is not fol-
lowed, few schools (especially of the middle or upper
elementary grades) are free from an exaggerated atten-
tion to forms supposedly employed by the pupil if he
gets his result logically. It is thought that there are
certain steps arranged in a certain order, which express
preeminently an understanding of the subject, and the
pupil is made to " analyze " his procedure into these
steps, i.e. to learn a certain routine formula of statement.
While this method is usually at its height in grammar
and arithmetic, it invades also history and even literature,
which are then reduced, under plea of intellectual train-
ing, to "outlines," diagrams, and schemes of division
and subdivision. In memorizing this simulated cut and
dried copy of the logic of an adult, the child generally
is induced to stultify his own subtle and vital logical
movement. The adoption by teachers of this miscon-
ception of logical method has probably done more than
anything else to bring pedagogy into disrepute ; for to
many persons " pedagogy " means precisely a set of
mechanical, self-conscious devices for replacing by some

MEANS AND END OF MENTAL TRAINING 6 1

cast-iron external scheme the personal mental move-
ment of the individual.

A reaction inevitably occurs from the poor results Reaction
that accrue from these professedly "logical" methods. J'T^L
Lack of interest in study, habits of inattention and and method
procrastination, positive aversion to intellectual applica-
jtion, dependence upon sheer memorizing and mechan-
ical routine with only a modicum of understanding by
the pupil of what he is about, show that the theory of
logical definition, division, gradation, and system does
not work out practically as it is theoretically supposed to
work. The consequent disposition — as in every reac-
tion — is to go to the opposite extreme. The "logical"
is thought to be wholly artificial and extraneous ; teacher
and pupil alike are to turn their backs upon it, and to
work toward the expression of existing aptitudes and
tastes. Emphasis upon natural tendencies and powers
as the only possible starting-point of development is
indeed wholesome. But the reaction is false, and hence
misleading, in what it ignores and d^ies : the presence
of genuinely intellectual factors in existing powers and
interests.

What is conventionally termed logical (namely, the togic of sub-
logical from the standpoint of subject-matter) represents Ject-matter
in truth the logic of the trained adult mind. AbiUty to adult or
divide a subject, to define its elements, and to group tia^oedmind
them into classes according to general principles repre- •
sents logical capacity at its best point reached after
thorough training. The mind that habitually exhibits
skill in divisions, definitions, generalizations, and system-
atic recapitulations no longer needs training in logical
methods. But it is absurd to suppose that a mind which
needs training because it cannot perform these opera-

62

HOW WE THINK

Hence, th^
psycholog-
ical and tlie
logical ^ ^
represent'
the two ends
of the same
Diovement

tions can begin where the expert mind stops. The
logical from the standpoint of subject-matter represents the
goal, the last term of training, not the point of departure.
In truth, the mind at every stage of development has
its own logic. The error of the notion that by appeal to
spontaneous tendencies and by multiplication of materials
we may completely dismiss logical considerations, lies in
overlooking how large a part curiosity, inference, ex-
perimenting, and testing already play in the pupil's life.
Therefore it underestimates the intellectual factor in the
more spontaneous play and work of individuals — the
factor that alone is truly educative. Any teacher who
is alive to the modes of thought naturally operative in
the experience of the normal child will have no difficulty
in avoiding the identification of the logical with a ready-
made organization of subject-matter, as well as the no-
tion that the only way to escape this error is to pay no
attention to logical considerations. Such a teacher will
have no difficulty in seeing that the real problem of in-
tellectual education is the transformation of natural
powers into expert, tested powers: the transformation
of more or less casual curiosity and sporadic suggestion
into attitudes of alert, cautious, and thorough inquiry.
He will see that the psychological and the logical, xn-
stead of being opposed to each other (or even independ-
ent of each other), are connected as the earlier and the
later stages in one continuous process of normal growth.
The natural or psychological activities, even when not
consciously controlled by logical considerations, have
their own intellecpial function and integrity ; conscious
and dehberate skill in thinking, when it is achieved,
makes habitual or second nature. jThe first is already log-
ical in spirit; the last, in presenting an ingrained disposi-

MEANS AND END OF MENTAL TRAINING 63

tion and attitude, is then as psychological (as personal)
as any caprice or chance impulse could be.

§ 2. Discipline and Freedom

Discipline of mind is thus, in truth, a result rather
than a cause. Any mind is disciplined in a subject in
which independent intellectual initiative and control
have been achieved. Discipline represents-original na-
tive endowment turned, through gradual exercise, into True and
effective power. So far as a mind is disciplined, con- of afgcl'ni^e
trol of method in a given subject has been attained
so that the mind is able to manage itself independently
without external tutelage. The aim of education is
precisely to develop intelligence of this independent
and effective type — a disciplined mind. Discipline is
positive and constructive.

Discipline, however, is frequently regarded as some-
thing negative — as a painfully disagreeable forcing of
mind away from channels congenial to it into channels
of constraint, a process grievous at the time but neces-
sary as preparation for a more or less remote future.
Discipline is then generally identified with drill; and Discipline
drill is conceived after the mechanical analogy of driv-
ing, by unremitting blows, a foreign substance into a
resistant material ; or is imaged after the analogy of
the mechanical routine by which raw recruits are trained
to a soldierly bearing and habits that are naturally
wholly foreign to their possessors. Training of this
latter sort, whether it be called discipline or not, is not
mental discipline. Its aim and result are not habits of
thinking, but uniform external modes of action. By
failing to ask what he means by discipUne, many a
teacher is misled into supposing that he is developing

64 HOW WE THINK

mental force and efficiency by methods which in fact
restrict and deaden intellectual activity, and which tend
to create mechanical routine, or mental passivity and
servility.
Asindepend- When discipline is conceived in intellectual terms (as
or freedom ^he habitual power of effective mental attack), it is iden-
tified with freedom in its true sense. For freedom of
mind means mental power capable of independent ex-
ercise, emancipated from the leading strings of others,
not mere unhindered external operation. When spon-
taneity or naturalness is identified with more or less
casual discharge of transitory impulses, the tendency of
Freedom the educator is to supply a multitude of stimuli in order

and external ^^^^ spontaneous activity may be kept up. All sorts of
spontaneity ^ j j r r

interesting materials, equipments, tools, modes of activity,

are provided in order that there may be no flagging of
free self-expression. This method overlooks some of
the essential conditions of the attainment . of genuine
freedom.
Some Ob- («) Direct immediate discharge or expression of, an

stacie neces- impulsive tendency is fatal to thinking. Only when the
thought ■ impulse is to some extent checked and thrown back,
upon itself does reflection ensue. It is, indeed, a stupid
error to suppose that arbitrary tasks must be imposed
from without in order to furnish the factor of perplexity
and difficulty which is the necessary cue to thought.
Every vital activity of any depth and range inevitably
: meets obstacles in the course of its effort to realize it-
self — a fact that renders the search for artificial or
external problems quite superfluous. The difficulties
that present themselves within the development of an
experience are, however, to be cherished by the edu-
cator, not minimized, for they are the natural stimuli

MEANS AND END OF MENTAL TRAINING 6$

to reflective inquiry. Freedom does not consist in keep-
ing up uninterrupted and unimpeded external activity,
but is something achieved through conquering, by per-
sonal reflection, a way out of the difficulties that prevent
an immediate overflow and a spontaneous sjiccess.

{l>) The method that emphasizes the psychological intellectual
and natural, but yet fails to see what an important part *^^*^'^lf^*
of the natural tendencies is constituted at every period
of growth by curiosity, inference, and the desire to test,
cannot secure a natural development. In natural growth
each successive stage of activity prepares unconsciously,
but thoroughly, the conditions for the nianifestation of
the next stage — as in the cycle of a plant's growth.
There is no ground for assuming ^tiiat_i'-lb inking" is a
special, isolated natural tendency that will bloom in-
evitably in due season simpjy because various sense and
motor activities have been freely manifested before ; or
because observation, memory, imagination, and manual
skill have been previously exercised without thought.
Only when thinking is constantly employed in using the
senses and muscles for the guidajice and application of
observations and movements, is the way prepared for
subsequent higher types of thinking.

At present, the notion is current that childhood is Genesis of
almost entirely unreflective — a period of mere sensory, tem"pOTlne°'
motor, and memory development, while adolescence sud- ous with
denly brings the manifestation of thought and reason, fny^hu^an

Adolescence is not, however, a synonym for magic, mental
Doubtless youth should bring with it an enlargement of ^"^^'^'^y
the horizon of childhood, a susceptibihty to larger con-
cerns and issues, a more generous and a more general
standpoint toward nature and social life. This develop-
ment affords an opportunity for thinking of a more com-

66

HOW WE THINK

prehensive and abstract type than has previously obtained.
But thinking itself remains just what it has been all the
time : a matter of following up and testing the conclu-
sions suggested by the facts and events of life. Think-
ing begins as soon as the baby who has lost the ball
that he is playing with begins to foresee the possibility
of something not yet existing — its recovery; and be-
gins to forecast steps toward the realization of this
possibility, and, by experimentation, to guide his acts by
his ideas and thereby also test the ideas. Only by
making the most of the thought-factor, already active
in the experiences of childhood, is there any promise
or warrant for the emergence of superior reflective
power at adolescence, or at any later period.

(<;) In any cslsq positive habits are being formed : if not
habits of careful looking into things, then habits of
hasty, heedless, impatient glancing over the surface ; if
f not habits of consecutively following up the suggestions
j that occur, then habits of haphazard, grasshopper-like
' guessing ; if not habits of suspending judgment till in-
ferences have been tested by the examination of evi-
dence, then habits of credulity alternating with flippant
incredulity, beUef or unbelief being bg^ed, in either case,
upon whim, emotion, or accidental circumstances. The
only way to achieve traits of carefulness, thoroughness,
and continuity (traits that are, as we have seen, the
elements of the " logical ") is by exercising these traits
from the beginning, and by seeing to it that conditions
call for their exercise. <
Genuine Genuine freedom, in short, is intellectual ; it rests in

freedom is ^^ \x2Sx\&A power of thought, 'v!\ ability to "turn things
not extern^ over," to look at matters deliberately, to judge whether
; the amount and kind of evidence requisite for decision

MEANS AND END OF MENTAL TRAINING 67

is at hand, and if not, to tell where and how to seek
such evidence. If a man's actions are not guided by
thoughtful conclusions, then they are guided by incon-
siderate impulse, unbalanced appetite, caprice, or the
circumstances of the moment. To cultivate unhindered,
unreflective external activity is to foster enslavement,
for it leaves the person at the mercy of appetite, sense,
and circumstance.

PART TWO: LOGICAL CONSIDERA-
TIONS

CHJ^PTER SIX
THE ANALYSIS OF A COMPLE.TE ACT OF THOUGHT

After a brief consideration in the first chapter of the
nature of reflective thinking, we turned, in the second,
to the need for its training. Then we took up the
resources, the difficulties, and the aim of its training.
The purpose of this discussion was to set before the
student the general problem of the training of mind.
The purport of the second part, upon which we are
now entering, is giving a fuller slatement of the nature
and normal growth of _ thinking, preparatory to con-
sidering in the concluding part the special problems
that arise in connection with its education.

In this chapter we shall make an analysis of the
process of thinking into its steps or elementary constitu-
ents, basing the analysis up®n descriptions of a num-
ber of extremely simple, but genuine, cases of reflective
experience.-^

I. "The other day when I was down town on i6th
Street a clock caught my eye. I saw that the hands
pointed to 12.20. This suggestedrthat I had an engage-
ment at 124th Street, at one o'clock. I reasoned that
*

1 These are taken, almost verbatim, from the class papers of students.
68

A Nahju ur H. i ^yjmri.£ rir. A<^i OF THOUGHT 69

as it had taken me an hour to come down on a surface
car, I should probably be twenty minutes late if I re-
turned the same way. I might save twenty minutes by
a subway express. But was there a station near ? If
not, I might lose more than twenty minutes in looking
for one. Then I thought of the elevated^ and I saw
there was such a line within two blocks. But where
was the station ? If it were several blocks above or
below the street I was on, I should lose time instead of
gaining it. My mind went back to the subway express
as quicker than the elevated ; furthermore, I remem-
bered that it went nearer than the elevated to the part
of 124th Street I wished to reach, so that time would
be saved at the end of the journey. I concluded in
favor of the subway, and reached my destination by one
o'clock."

2. "Projecting nearly horizontally from the upper
deck of the ferryboat on which I daily cross the river,
is a long white pole, bearing a gilded ball at its tip. It
suggested a flagpole when I first saw it ; its color,
shape, and gilded ball agreed with this idea, and these
reasons seemed to justify me in this belief. But soon
difficulties presented themselves. The pole was nearly
horizontal, ari unusual position for a flagpole; in the
next place, there was no pulley, ring, or cord by which
to attach a flag ; finally, there were elsewhere two verti-
cal staffs from which flags were occasionally flown. It
seemed probable that the pole was not there for flag-
flying.

" I then tried t^ imagine all possible purposes of such

a pole, and to consider for which of these it was best

. suited : (a) Possibly it was an ornament. But as all the

ferryboats and even the tugboats carried like polea,

70

HOW WE THINK

this hypothesis was rejected, {b) Possibly it was the
terminal of a wireless telegraph. But the same consid-
erations made this improbable. Besides, the more nat-
ural place for such a terminal would be the highest
part of the boat, on top of the pilot house, {c) Its pur-
pose might be to point out the direction in which the
boat is moving.

" In support of this conclusion, I discovered that the
pole was lower than the pilot house, so that the steers-
man could easily see it. Moreover, the tip was enough
higher than the base, so that, from the pilot's position,
it must appear to project far out in front of the boat.
Moreover, the pilot being near the front of the boat, he
would need some such guide as to its direction. Tugboats
would also need poles for such a purpose. This hy-
pothesis was so much more probable than the others
that I accepted it. I formed the conclusion that the
pole was set up for the purpose of showing the pilot
the direction in which the boat pointed, to enable him
to steer correctly."

3. " In washing tumblers in hot soapsuds and placing
them mouth downward on a plate, bubbles appeared
on the outside of the mouth of the tumblers and
then went inside. Why ? The presence of bubbles
suggests air, which I note must come from inside the
tumbler. I see that the soapy water on the plate pre-
vents escape of the air save as it may be caught in bubbles. .
But why should air leave the tumbler .? There was no
substance entering to force it out. It must have ex-
panded. It expands by increase ^ heat or by de-
crease of pressure, or by both. Could the air have
become heated after the tumbler was taken from the hot
l^ds? Clearly not the air that was already entangledf

ANALYSIS OF A COMPLETE ACT OF THOUGHT 71

in the water. If heated air was the cause, cold air
must have entered in transferring the tumblers from
the suds to the plate. I test to, see if this supposition
is true by taking seve'lal more tumblers out. Some
I shake so as to make.Nure of entrapping cold air in
them. Some I take ouiUiolding mouth downward in
order to prevent cold air ^firom entering. Bubbles ap-
pear on the outside of everj^ one of the former and on
none of the latter. I must ^e right in my inference.
Air from the outside must hT\e been expanded by the
heat of the tumbler, which explains the appearance of
the bubbles on the outside. '^x

" But why do they then go ii* ide ? Cold contracts.
The tumbler cooled and also the air inside it. Tension
was removed, and hence bubbles ap^ieared inside. To
be sure of this, I test by placing a -^up of ice on the
tumbler while the bubbles are still forming outside.
They soon reverse."

These three cases have been purposely^ selected so as The three
to form a series from the more rudimentary to more
omplicated cases of reflection. The first* illustrates the

nd of thinking done by_eyery one during the day's
asiness, in which neither the d ata,\ nor the "wg^s of
dealing with them, take one outside the limits of every-
day' experience. The last furnishes a case in which
leither problem nor mode of solution would have been
ikely to occur except to one with some prior scientific
raining. The second case forms a natural transition ;
ts materials lie well within the bounds of everyday,
inspecialized experie^ij^; but the problem, instead of
•eing directly involved in the person's business, arises
. directly out of his activity, and accordingly appeals

i. somewhat theoretic and impartial interest. We

cases form.
a series

72

HOW WE THINK

"i distinct
■ ■' -iisi : i
r'f;etii>.r. ;i>i

n

recce of a
dijtisalty

rshall deal, in a later chapter, with the evolution of
abstract thinking out of that which is relatively practical
^and direct ; here we are concerned o^ily with the com-
'' mon elements found in all the '^'pes.
; Upon examination, each inp/."'lnce reveals, more or less
blearly, five logically distinct, ^teps : (i) a, felt difficulty ;
yi) its Location and definition; (m) suggestion of pos-
;ible solution; («V)~develr pment by reasoning of the
searings of the suggestio ' ; {v) further observation and
jxperiment leading to i^'^'^acceptance or rejection; Jthat
s, the conclusion of belief or disbelief.
Theoccw-^ I. The first and ss jond steps frequently fuse into
one. The difficulty may be felt with sufficient definite,-
hess as to set the^ mind at once speculating upon itL<=>
probable solution^^or an undefined uneasiness and shock
Ina}' come first, leading only later to definite attempt to
nd out what is the matter. Whether the two steps
re distinct or blended, there is the factor emphasized
n our original account of reflection — vis. the perplexity
r problem. In the first of the three cases cited, the
ifficulty resides in the conflict_betweea-G&nditions at
ijian^^nd a desii^dajid intended jesult, between an end
nd the means for reaching it.. The purpose of keep-
ng an engagement at a certain time, and the existing
our taken in connection with the location, are not con-
uous. The object of thinking is to introduce con-
fruity between the two. The given conditions cannot
i hem selves be altered ; time will not go backward nor
/ill the distance between i6th Strgefe-^nd 124th Street
horten itself. The problem J^l^e discovery of inter-
vening terms which when inserted between the remotet
nd and the given means will/harmonize them with each
i ^ther. -y

(d) is the
lack of
adaptation
fi'. means
t .. ea&

ANALYSIS OF A COMPLETE ACT OF THOUGHT 73

In the second case, the difficulty experienced is the (b) inidenti-
incompatibility of a suggested and (temporarily) ac- ^^fg^gj^j
cepted belief that the pole is a flagpole, with certain an object
other facts. Suppose we symbolize the qualities that
suggest flagpole by the letters a, b, c; those that op-
pose this suggestion by the letters/, q, r. There is, of
course, nothing inconsistent in the qualities themselves ;
but in pulling the mind to different and incongruous
conclusions they conflict — hence the problem. Here
the object is the discovery of some object (O), of which
a, b, c, and/, q, r, may all be appropriate traits — just
as, in our first case, it is to discover a course of action
which will combine existing conditions and a remoter re-
sult in a single whole. The method of solution is also
the same : discovery of intermediate qualities (the posi-
tion of the pilot house, of the pole, the need of an index
to the boat's direction) symbolized by d, g, I, 0, which
bind together otherwise incompatible traits.

In the third case, an observer trained to the idea of
natural laws or uniformities finds something odd or ex-
ceptional in the behavior of the bubbles. The problem event
is to reduce the apparent anomalies to instances of well-
established laws. Here the method of solution is also
to seek for intermediary terms which will connect, by
regular Unkage, the seemingly extraordinary movements
of the bubbles with the conditions known to follow frorii
processes supposed to be operative.

2. As already noted, the first two steps, the feeling 3. Definition
of a discrepancy, or difficulty, and the acts of observa- ^^^j^y
tion that serve to define the character of the difficulty
may, in a given instance, telescope together. In cases
*of striking novelty or Ui.iusual perplexity, the difficulty,
however, is Ukely to present itself at first as a shock, as

74 HOW WE THINK

emotional disturbance, as a more or less vague feeling
of the unexpected, of something queer, strange, funny,
or disconcerting. In such instances, there are neces»
sary observations deliberately calculated to bring to
light just what is the trouble, or to make clear the spe-
icific character of the problem. In large measure, the
i existence or non-existence of this step makes the differ-
ence between reflection proper, or safeguarded critical
^inference and uncontrolled thinking. Where sufficient
pains to locate the difficulty are not taken, suggestions for
its resolution must be more or less random. Imagine a
doctor called in to prescribe for a patient. The patient
tells him some things that are wrong ; his experienced
eye, at a glance, takes in other signs of a certain dis-
ease. But if he permits the suggestion of this special
disease to take possession prematurely of his mind, to
become an accepted conclusion, his scientific thinking is
by that much cut short. A large part of his technique,
as a skilled practitioner, is to prevent the acceptance of
the first suggestions that arise ; even, indeed, to postpone
the occurrence of any very definite suggestion till the
trouble — the nature of the problem — has been thor-
oughly explored. In the case of a physician this pro-
ceeding is known as diagnosis, but a similar inspection
is required in every novel and complicated situation to
prevent rushing to a conclusion. The essence of criti-
.cal thinking is suspended judgment; and the essence
of this suspense is inquiry to determine the nature of
the problem before proceeding to attempts at its solu-
tion. This, more than any other thing, transforms mere
, inference into tested uiference, suggested conclusions
i into proof. ^

3. The third factor is suggestion. The situation in

ANALYSIS OF A COMPLETE ACT OF THOUGHT 75

which the perplexity occurs calls up something not 3- Occnr-
present to the senses : the present location, the thought suggested
of subway or elevated train ; the stick before the eyes, explanation
1 • 1 c n 1 c "^ possible

the idea of a flagpole, an ornament, an apparatus for solution

wireless telegraphy ; the soap bubbles, the law of expan-
sion of bodies through heat and of their contraction
through cold, (a) Suggestion is the very heart of in-
forence ; it involves going from what is present to some-i
thing absent. Hence, it is more or less speculative,
adventurous. Since inference goes beyond what is ac-
tually present, it involves a leap, a jump, the propriety
of which cannot be absolutely warranted in advance, no
matter what precautions be taken. Its control is in-
direct, on the one hand, involving the formation of habits
of mind which are at once enterprising and cautious ;
and on the other hand, involving the selection and
arrangement of the particular facts upon perception of
which suggestion issues, (b) The suggested conclusion
so far as it is not accepted but only tentatively enter-
tained constitutes an idea. Synonyms for this are sup-
position, conjecture, guess, hypothesis, and (in elaborate
cases) theory. Since suspended belief, or the postpone-
ment of a final conclusion pending further evidence,
depends partly upon the presence of rival conjectures
as to the best course to pursue or the probable explana-
tion to favor, cultivation of a variety of alternative
suggestions is an important factor in good thinking.

4. The process of developing the bearings — or, as 4. The
they are more technically termed, the implications — of | 'j*i™^.
any idea with respect to any problem, is termed reason- \ of an idea
ing} As an idea is inferred from given facts, so reasoning

^ This term is sometimes extended to denote the entire reflective pro-
cess — just as inference (which in the sense of test is best reserved for

76 HOW WE THINK

sets out from an idea. The idea of elevatefl road is de-
veloped into the idea of difficulty of locating station, length
of time occupied on the journey, distance of station at
the other end from place to be reached. In the second
case, the implication of a flagpole is seen to be a verti-
cal position ; of a wireless apparatus, location on a high
part of the ship and, moreover, absence from every
casual tugboat ; while the idea of index to direction in
which the boat moves, when developed, is found to cover
all the details of the case.

Reasoning has the same effect upon a suggested
solution as more intimate and extensive observation has
upon the original problem. Acceptance of the sugges-
tion in its first form is prevented by looking into it more
thoroughly. Conjectures that seem plausible at first
sight are often found unfit or even absurd when their
full consequences are traced out. Even when reason-
ing out the bearings of a supposition does not lead to re-
jection, it develops the idea into a form in which it is
more apposite to the problem. Only when, for example,
the conjecture that a pole was an index-pole had been
thought out into its bearings could its particular appli-
cability to the case in hand be judged. Suggestions
at first seemingly remote and wild are frequently so
transformed by being elaborated into what follows from
them as to become apt and fruitful. The development
of an idea through reasoning helps at least to supply
the intervening or intermediate terms that link together
into a consistent whole apparently discrepant extremes
(a7ite, p. 72).

the third step) is sometimes used in the same broad sense. But reasoning
(or ratiocination) seems to be peculiarly adapted to express what the
older writers called the " notional " or " dialectic " process of developing
the meaning of a given idea.

ANALYSIS OF A COMPLETE ACT OF THOUGHT "JJ

S. The cojticluding and conclusive step is some kind 5. con-ob-
of experimental corroboration, or verification, of the ""^o""*
conjectural idea. Reasoning shows that ?/ the idea be fomationof
adopted, certain consequences follow. So far the con- %^t^^^
elusion is hypothetical or conditional. If we look a,nd
find present all the conditions demanded by the theory,
and if we find the characteristic traits called for by
rival alternatives to be lacking, the tendency to believe,
to accept, is almost irresistible. Sometimes direct
observation furnishes corroboration, as in the case of
the pole on the boat. In other cases, as in that of the
bubbles, experiment is required ; that is, conditions are .
deliberately arranged in accord with the requirements of
an idea or hypothesis to see if the results theoretically]
indicated by the idea actually occur. If it is found that
the experimental results agree with the theoretical,
or rationally deduced, results, and if there is reason to
believe that only the conditions in question would yield
such results, the confirmation is so strong as to induce a
conclusion — at least until contrary facts shall indicate
the advisability of its revision.

Observation exists at the beginning and again at the TiiinMng
end of the process : at the beginning, to determine more te^een
definitely and precisely the nature of the difficulty to be observations
dealt with ; at the end, to test the value of some hypo- ginning and
thetically entertained conclusion. Between those two at the end
termini of observation, we find the more distinctively
mental aspects of the entire thought-cycle : (z) inference,
the suggestion of an explanation or solution; and
{it) reasoning, the development of the bearings and im-
plications of the suggestion. Reasoning requires some
experimental observation to confirm it, while experi-
ment can be economically and fruitfully conducted only

78 HOW WE THINK

on the basis of an idea that has been tentatively devel-
oped by reasoning.
The trained The discipUned, or logically trained, mind — the aim of
mt*-ud*es ^'^^ educative process — is the mind able to judge how
the extent \ 'far each of these steps needs to be carried in any par-

of each step ji^j^^jg^j. situation. No cast-iron rules can be laid down.

adyisable in

a given Each case has to be dealt with as it arises, on the basis

situation ^£ j|.g jmportance and of the context in which it occurs.
To take too much pains in one case is as foolish — as
1 illogical — as to take too little in another. At one
extreme, almost apy conclusion that insures prompt
and unifieci action may be better than any long delayed
conclusion ; while at the other, decision may have to
be postponed for a long period — perhaps for a life-
time. The trained mind is the one that best grasp's the
degree of observation, forming gi ideas, reasoning, and
experimental testing required in any special case, and that
profits the most, in future thinkihg, by mistakes made in
' the past. What is important is that the mind should
be sensitive to problems and skilled in methods of attack
and solution.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SYSTEMATIC INFERENCE: INDUCTION AND DE-
- DUCTION

§ I. The Double' Movement of Reflection

The characteristic outcome of thinking we saw to be Back and
the organization of facts and conditions which, just as ^en"*"
they stand, are isolated, fragmentary, and discrepant, the facts and
organization being effected through the introduction of "'**°'°2s
connecting links, or middle terms. The facts as they
stand are the data, the raw material of reflection ; their
lack of coherence perplexes and stimulates to reflection.
There follows the suggestion of some meaning which, if
it can be substantiated, will give a whole in which vari-
ous fragmentary and seemingly incompatible data find
their proper place. The meaning suggested supplies a
mental platform, an intellectual point of view, from
which to note and define the data more carefully, tq
seek for additional observations, and to institute, experi-
mentally, changed conditions.

There is thus a double movement in all reflection : a Inductive
movement' from the givpn partial- and confused data. to ^"^^j^.^^^
a suggested comprehensive {ax inclusive) entire situation}
and back from this suggested whole — which as sug-
gested is a meaning, an idea — to the f>articular facts,
so as to connect these with one another and with addi-
tional facts to which the suggestion has directed atten-
tion. Roughly speaking, the first of these movements

79

8o

HOW WE THINK

is inductive ; the second deductive. A complete act of
thought involves both — it involves, that is, a fruitful
interaction of observed (or recollected) particular con-
siderations and of inclusive and far-reaching (general)
meanings.

This double movement to and from a meaning may
occur, however, in a casual, uncritical way, or in a cautious
and regulated manner. To think means, in any case, to
bridge a gap in experience, to bind together facts or
deeds otherwise isolated. But we may make only a
hurried jump from one consideration to another, allow-
ing our aversion to mental disquietude to override the
gaps ; or, we may insist upon noting the road traveled
in making connections. We may, in short, accept
readily any suggestion that seems plausible ; or we may
hunt out additional factors, new difficulties, to see whether
the suggested conclusion really ends the matter. The
latter method involves definite formulation of the con-
necting links ; the statement of a principle, or, in logical
phrase, the use of a universal. If we thus formulate the
whole situation, the original data are transformed into
premises of reasoning; the final belief is a logical or
rational conclusion, not a mere de facto termination.

The importance of connections binding isolated items
into a coherent single whole is embodied in all the phrases
that denote the relation of premises and conclusions to
each other, (i) The premises are called grounds,
foundations, bases, and are said to underlie, uphold,
support the conclusion. (2) We " descend " from the
premises to the conclusion, and " ascend " or " mount "
in the opposite direction — as a river may be continuously
traced from source to sea or vice versa. So the con-
clusion springs, flows, or is drawn from its preniises.

SYSTEMATIC INFERENCE 8 1

(3) The conclusion — as the word itself implies — closes,
shuts in, locks up together the various factors stated
in the premises. We say that the premises " contain "
the conclusion, and that the conclusion " contains " the
premises, thereby marking our sense of the inclusive
and comprehensive unity in which the elements of
reasoning are bound tightly together.^ Systematic in-,
ference, in short, means the recognition of definite,
relations of interdependence between considerations pre\
viously U7wrganized and disconnected, this recognition
being brought about by the discovery and insertion of
new facts and properties.

This more systematic thinking is, however, like the Scientific
cruder forms in its double movement, the movement ™^'"^*""'
toward the suggestion or hypothesis and the movement deduction
back to facts. The difference is in the greater conscious
care with which each phase of the process is performed.
The conditions under which suggestions are allowed to
spring up and develop are regulated. Hasty acceptance
of any idea that is plausible, that seems to solve the
difficulty, is changed into a conditional acceptance
pending further inquiry. The idea is accepted as a
working hypothesis, as something to guide investigation
and bring to light ijew facts, not as a final conclusion.
When pains are taken to make each aspect of the move-
ment as accurate as possible, the movement toward
building up the , idea is known as inductive discovery
(induction, for short) ; the movement toward developing,
applying, and testing, as deductive proof {deduction, for
short).

While induction moves from fragmentary details (oif

1 See Vailati, Journal of Philosophy, Psychology, and Scientific Metho
Vol. V, No. 12. ^ns,

82

HOW WE THINK

particulars) to a connected view of a situation (universal),
deduction begins with the latter and works back again
to particulars, connecting them and binding them to-
gether. The inductive movement is toward discovery of
a binding principle,; the deductive toward Tts~SSm_^ —
confirming, refuting, modifying it on the basis of its ca-
pacity to interpret isolated details into a unified expe-
rience. So far as we conduct each of these processes in
the light of the other, we get valid discovery or verified
critical thinking.

A commonplace illustration may enforce the points
of this formula. A man who has left his rooms in order
finds them upon his return in a state of confusion, arti-
cles being scattered at random. Automatically, the no-
tion comes to his mind that burglary would account for
the disorder. He has not seen the burglars; their pres-
ence is not a fact of observation, but is a thought, an
idea. Moreover, the man has no special burglars in
mind ; it is the relation, the meaning of burglary — some-
thing general — that comes to mind. The state of his
room is perceived and is particular, definite, — exactly
as it is ; burglars are inferred, and have a general sta-
tus. The state of the room is 2. fact, certain and speak-
ing for itself; the presence of burglars is a possible
meaning which may explain the facts.

So far there is an inductive tendency, suggested by

particular and present facts. In the same inductive

way, it occurs to him that his children are mischievous,

and that they may have thrown the things about. This

:^ rival hypothesis (or conditional principle of explanation)

^j.^J3revents him from dogmatically accepting the first sug-

clusic^*^°'^' J^'^g'^^"^ i^ ^eld in suspense and a positive
nclusion postponed.

SYSTEMATIC INFERENCE 83

*

Then deductive movement begins. Further observa- of deduction
tions, recollections, reasonings are conducted on the
basis of a development of the ideas suggested : if bur-
glars were responsible, such and such things would have
happened ; articles of value would be missing'. Here the
man is going from a general principle or relation to spe-
cial features that accompany it, to par.ticulars, — not back,
however, merely to the original particulars (which would
be fruitless or take him in a circle), but to new details,
the actual discovery or nondiscovery of which will test
the principle. The man turns to a box of valuables ;
some things are gone ; some, however, are still there.
Perhaps he has himself removed the missing articles,
but has forgotten it. His experiment is not a decisive
test. He thinks of the silver in the sideboard — the
children would not have taken that nor would he absent-
mindedly have changed its place. He looks ; all the /
solid ware is gone. The conception of burglars is con-
firmed ; examination of windows and doors shows that
they have been tampered with. Belief culminates ; the
original isolated facts have been woven into a coherent
fabric. The idea first suggested (inductively) has been
employed to reason out hypothetically certain addi-
tional particulars not yet experienced, that ought to be
there, if the suggestion is correct. Then new acts of
observation have shown that the particulars theoretically
called for are present, and by this process the hypoth-
esis is strengthened, corroborated. This moving back
and forth between the observed facts and the conditional
idea is kept up till a coherent experience of an object is
substituted for the experience of conflicting details — or
else the whole matter is given up as a bad job.

Sciences exemplify similar attitudes and operations,

84 HOW WE THINK

but with a higher degree of elaboration of the instru-
ments of caution, exactness and thoroughness. This
greater elaboration brings about specialization, an ac-
curate marking off of various types of problems from
one another, and a corresponding segregation and classi-
fication of the materials of experience associated with
each type of problem. We shall devote the remainder
of this chapter to a consideration of the devices by which
the discovery, the development, and the testing of mean-
ings are scientifically carried on.

§ 2. Guidance of the Inductive Movement

Control of the formation of suggestion is necessarily
indirect, not direct; imperfect, not perfect. Just be-
cause all discovery, all apprehension involving thought
of the new, goes from the known, the present, to the
unknown and absent, no rules can be stated that will
guarantee correct inference. Just what is suggested
to a person in a given situation depends upon his native
constitution (his originality, his genius), temperament,
the prevalent direction of his interests, his early environ-
ment, the general tenor of his past experiences, his
special training, the things that have recently occupied
him continuously or vividly, and so on ; to some extent
even upon an accidental conjunction of present circum-
stances. These matters, so far as they lie in the past
or in external conditions, clearly escape regulation. A
suggestion simply does or does not occur ; this or that
suggestion just happens, occurs, springs up. If, how-
ever, prior experience and training have developed an
attitude of patience in a condition of doubt, a capac-
ity for suspended judgment, and a liking for inquiry,
indirect control of the course of suggestions is possible.

SYSTEMATIC INFERENCE 85

The individual may return upon, revise, restate, enlarge,
and analyze the facts out of which suggestion springs.
Inductive methods, in the technical sense, all have to
do with regulating the conditions under which observa-
tion, memoryy and the acceptance of the testimony of
others (the operations supplying the raw data') proceed.

Given the facts A B C D on one side and certain in-
dividual habits on the other, suggestion occurs automat-
ically. But if the facts A B C D are carefully looked
into and thereby resolved into the facts A' B" R S, z.
suggestion will automatically present itself different
from that called up by the facts in their first form. To
inventory the facts, to describe exactly and minutely
their respective traits, to magnify artificially those that
are obscure and feeble, to reduce artificially those that
are so conspicuous and glaring as to be distracting, —
these are ways of modifying the facts that exercise sug-
gestive force, and thereby indirectly guiding the forma-
tion of suggested inferences.

Consider, for example, how a physician makes his niustration
diagnosis — his inductive interpretation. If he is scien- ajaniosis
tifically trained, he suspends — postpones — reaching a
conclusion in order that he may not be led by superficial
occurrences into a snap judgment. Certain conspicuous
phenomena may forcibly suggest typhoid, but he avoids
a conclusion, or even any strong preference for this or
that conclusion until he has greatly (?) enlarged the *.
scope of his data, and (m) rendered them more minute.
He not only questions the patient as to his feelings and
as to his acts prior to the disease, but by various manipu-
lations with his hands (and with instruments made for
the purpose) brings to light a large number of facts of
which the patient is quite unaware. The state of tem-

86

HOW WE THINK

perature, respiration, and heart-action is accurately-
noted, and their fluctuations from time to time are ex-
actly recorded. Until this examination has worked out
toward a wider collection and in toward a minuter scru-
tiny of details, induction is deferred.

Scientific induction means, in short, all the processes
by which the observing and amassing of data are regu-
lated with a view to facilitating the formation of explan-
atory conceptions and theories. These devices are, all
directed toward selecting the precise facts to which
weight and significance shall attach in forming sugges-
tions or ideas. Specifically, this selective determination
involves devices of (i) elimination by analysis of what
is likely to be misleading and irrelevant, (2) emphasis
of the important by collection and comparison of cases,
(3) deliberate construction of data by experimental
variation.

(i) It is a common saying that one must learn to dis-
criminate between observed facts and judgments based
upon them. Taken literally, such advice cannot be
carried out ; in every observed thing there is -t- if the
thing have any meaning at all — some consolidation of
meaning with what is sensibly and physically present,
such that, if this were entirely excluded, what is left
would have no sfnse. A says : " I saw my brother."
The term brother, however, involves a relation that can-
not be sensibly or physically observed ; it is inferential
in status. If A contents himself with saying, " I saw a
man," the factor of classification, of intellectual refer-
ence, is less complex, but still exists. If, as a last re-
sort, A were to say, " Anyway, I saw a colored objectj,"
some relationship, though more rudimentary and unde-
fined, still subsists. Theoretically, it is possible that no

SYSTEMATIC INFERENCE 87

object was there, only an unusual mode of nerve stimu-
lation. None the less, the advice to discriminate what
is observed from what is inferred is sound practical
advice. Its working import is that one should eliminate
or exclude i^ose inferences as to which experience has
shown that there is greatest liability to error. This, of
course, is a relative matter. Under ordinary circum-
stances no reasonable doubt would attach to the obser-
vation, " I see my brother " ; it would be pedantic and
silly to resolve this recognition back into a more ele-
mentary form. Under other circumstances it might be
a perfectly genuine question as to whether A saw even
a colored thing, or whether the color was due to a stim-
ulation of the sensory optical apparatus (like " seeing
stars " upon a blow) or to a disordered circulation. In
general, the scientific man is one who knows that he is
likely to be hurripd to a conclusion, and *that part of
this precipitancy is due to certain habits which tend to
make him " read " certain meanings into the situation
that confronts him, so that he must be on the lookout
against errors arising from his interests, habits, and
current preconceptions.

The technique of scientific inquiry thus consists in Thetech-
varioijs processes that tend to exclude over-hasty " read- °on"iugjo„
ing in " of meanings ; devices that aim to give a purely
"objective" unbiased rendering of the data to be in-
terpreted. Flushed cheeks usually mean heightened
temperature; paleness means lowered temperature.
The clinical thermometer records automatically the ac-
tual temperature and hence checks up the habitual
associations that might lead to error in a given
case. All the instrumentalities of observation — the
various -meters and -graphs and -scopes — fill a part ,

88 HOW WE THINK

of their scientific rdle in helping to eliminate meanings
supplied because of habit, prejudice, the strong mo-
mentary preoccupation of excitement and anticipation,
and by the vogue of existing theories. Photographs,
phonographs, kymographs, actinographs, seismographs,
plethysmographs, and the like, moreover, give records
that are permanent, so that they can be employed by
different persons, and by the same person in different
states of vam^^e. under the influence of varying ex-
pectations and dominant beliefs. Thus purely personal
prepossessions (due to habit, to desire, to after-effects of

■ recent experience) may be largely eliminated. In ordi-
nary language, the facts are objectively, rather than
subjectively, determined. In this way tendencies to

I premature interpretation are held in check.

(2) Another important method of control consists in
the multiplication of cases or instances. If I doubt
whether a certain handful gives a fair sample, or repre-
sentative, for purposes of judging value, of a whole car-
load of grain, I take a number of handfuls from various
parts of the car and compare them. If they agree in
quality, well and good ; if they disagree, we try to get
enough samples so that when they are thoroughly mixed
the result will be a fair basis for an evaluation. This
illustration represents roughly the value of that aspect
of scientific control in induction which insists upon
multiplying observations instead of basing the conclu-
sion upon one or a few cases.

So prominent, indeed, is this aspect of inductive
method that it is frequently treated as the whole of in-
duction. It is supposed that all inductive inference is
based upon collecting and comparing a number of like
cases. But in fact such comparison and collection is a

SYSTEMATIC INFERENCE 89

secondary development within the process of securing
a correct conclusion in some single case. If a man in-
fers from a single sample of grain as to the grade of
wheat of the car as a whole, it is induction and, under
certain circumstances, a sound induction; other cases
are resorted to simply for the sake of rendering that
induction more guarded, and more probably correct.
In like fashion, the reasoning that led up to the bur-
glary idea in the instance already cited (p. 83) was in-
ductive, though there was but one siqgle case examined.
The particulars upon which the general meaning (or
relation) of burglary was grounded were simply the sum
total of the unlike items and qualities that made up the
one case examined. Had this case presented very great
obscurities and difficulties, recourse might then have
been had to examination of a number of similar cases.
But this comparison would not majie inductive a process
which was not previously of that character; it would
only render induction more wary and adequate. The\
object of bringing into consideration a multitude of cases\
is to facilitate the selection of the evidential or significant
. features upon which to base inference in some single case.

Accordingly, points of unlikeness are as important as contrast as
• points of likeness among the cases examined. Campari- ^^^^ga
., son, without contrast, does not amount to anything log-
ically. In the degree in which other cases observed or
. remembered merely duplicate the case in question, we
are no better off for purposes of inference than if we
^,had permitted our single original fact to dictate a con-
'clusion. In the case of the various samples of grain, it
,is the fact that the samples are unlike, at least in the
! part of the carload from which they are taken, that is
' important. Were it not for this unlikeness, their like-

90 HOW WE THINK

ness in quality would be of no avail in assisting infer-
ence.i If we are endeavoring to get a child to regulate
his conclusions about the germination of a seed by tak-
ing into account a number of instances, very little is
gained if the conditions in all these instances closely
approximate one another. But if one seed is placed in
pure sand, another in loam, and another on blotting-
paper, and if in each case there are two conditions, one
with and another without moisture, the unlike factors
tend to throw into relief the factors that are significant
(or "essential") for reaching a conclusion. Unless, in
short, the observer takes care to have the differences in
the observed cases as extreme as conditions allow, and
unless he notes unlikenesses as carefully as likenesses,
he has no way of determining the evidential force of
the data that confront him.

Another way of bringing out this importance of un-
likeness is the emphasis put by the scientist upon nega-
tive cases — upon instances which it would seem ought
to fall into line but which as matter of fact do not.
Anomalies, exceptions, things which agree in most re-
spects but disagree in some crucial point, are so impor-
tant that many of the devices of scientific technique are
designed purely to detect, record, and impress upon
memory contrasting cases. Darwin remarked that so
easy is it to pass over cases that oppose a favorite
generalization, that he had made it a habit not merely
to hunt for contrary instances, but also to write down
any exception he noted or thought of — as otherwise it
was almost sure to be forgotten.

^ In terms of the phrases used in logical treatises, the so-called " methods
of agreement " (comparison) and '' difference " (contrast) must accompany
each other or constitute a "joint method" in order to be of logical use.

SYSTEMATIC INFERENCE 9I

§ 3. Experimental Variation of Conditions

We have already trenched upon this factor of indue- Experiment
tive method, the one that is the most important of all method of '
wherever it is feasible. Theoretically, one sample case introducing
of the right kind will be as good a basis for an inference factors
as a thousand cases ; but cases of the " right kind "
rarely turn up spontaneously. We have to search for
them, and we may have to make them. If we take
cases just as we find them — whether one case or many
cases — they contain much that is irrelevant to the prob-
lem in hand, while much that is relevant is obscure, hid-
den. The object of experimentation is the construction,
by regular steps taken on the basis of a plan though't out
in advance, of a typical, crucial case, a case formed with
express reference to throwing light on the difficulty in
question. All inductive methods rest (as already stated,
p. 85) upon regulation of the conditions of observation
and memory ; experiment is simply the most adequate
regulation possible of these conditions. We try to make
the observation such that every factor entering into
it, together with the mode and the amount of its opera-
tion, may be open to recognition. Such making of ob-
servations constitutes experiment.

Such observations have many and obvious advantages Three ad-
over observations — no matter how extensive — with re- J^^ent
spect to which we simply wait for an event to happen
or an object to present itself. Experiment overcomes
the defects due , to (a) the rarity, {b) the stibtlety and
minuteness (or the violence), and {c) the rigid fixity of
facts as we ordinarily experience them. The following
quotations, from Jevgns's Elementary Lessons in Logic.
bring out all these points :

(/) " We" might have to vjait years or centuries to meet

92 HOW WE THINK

accidentally with facts which we can readily produce at
any moment in a laboratory ; and it is probable that most
of the chemical substances now known, and many ex-
cessively useful products would never have been dis-
covered at all by waiting till nature presented them
spontaneously to our observation."

This quotation refers to the infrequency or rarity of
certain facts of nature, even very important ones. The
passage then goes on to speak of the minuteness of many*
phenomena which makes them escape ordinary experi-
ence:

(«) " Electricity doubtless operates in every particle
of matter, perhaps at every moment of time ; and even
the ancients could not but notice its action in the load-
stone, in lightning, in the Aurora Borealis, or in a piece
of rubbed amber. But in lightning electricity was too
intense and dangerous ; in the other cases it was too
feeble to be properly understood. The science of elec-
tricity and magnetism could only advance by getting
regular supplies of electricity from the common electric
machine or the galvanic battery and by making powerful
electromagnets. Most, if not all, the effects which elec-
tricity produces must go on in nature, but altogether too
obscurely for observation."

Jevons then deals with the fact that, under ordinary
conditions of experience, phenomena which can be
understood only by seeing them under varying condi-
tions are presented in a fixed and uniform way.

{Hi) " Thus carbonic acid is only met in the form of
a gas, proceeding from the combustion of carbon ; but
when exposed to extreme pressure and cold, it is con-
densed into a liquid, and may even be converted into a
snowlike solid substance. Many other gases have in

SYSTEMATIC INFERENCE 93

like manner been liquefied or solidified, and there is
reason to believe that every substance is capable of
taking all three forms of solid, liquid, and gas, if only
the conditions of temperature and pressure can be
sufficiently varied. Mere observation of nature would
have led us, on the contrary, to suppose that nearly all
substances were fixed in one condition only, and could
not be converted from solid into liquid and from liquid
into gas."

Many volumes would be required to describe in detail
all the methods that investigators have developed in
various subjects for analyzing and restating the facts
of ordinary experience so that we may escape from
capricious and routine suggestions, and may get the
facts in such a form and in such a light (or context)
that exact and far-reaching explanations may be sug-
gested in place of vague and limited ones. But these ;
various devices of inductive inquiry all have one goal in
view : the indirect regulation of the function of sugges-
tion, or formation of ideas ; and, in the main, they will
be found to reduce to some combination of the three
types of selecting and arranging subject-matter just ■
described.

§ 4. Guidance of the Deductive Movement

Before dealing directly with this topic, we must note Value of
that systematic regulation of induction depends upon forguitog
the possession of a body of general principles that induction
may be appUed deductively to the examination or con-
struction of particular case^ as they come .up. If the
physician does not know the general laws of the physi-
ology of the human body, he has little way of tell-
ing what is either peculiarly significant or peculiarly

94 HOW WE THINK

exceptional in any particular case that he is called upon
to treat. If he knows the laws of circulation, digestion,
and respiration, he can deduce the conditions that
should normally be found in a given case. These con-
siderations give a base line from which the deviations
and abnormalities of a particular case may be measured.
In this way, the nature of the problem at hand is located
and defined. Attention is not wasted upon features
which though conspicuous have nothing to do with the
case; it is concentrated upon just those traits which
are out of the way and hence require explanation. A
question well put is half answered; i.e.-*a. difficulty
clearly apprehended is likely to suggest its own solu-
tion, — while a vague and miscellaneous perception
of the problem leads to groping and fumbling. De-
ductive systems are necessary in order to put the
question in a fruitful form.

The control of the origin and development of hypoth-
eses by deduction does not cease, however, with locating
the problem. Ideas as they first present themselves are
inchoate and incomplete. Deduction is their elabora-
tion into fullness and completeness of meaning {^qq p. 76).
The phenomena which the physician isolates from the
total mass of facts that exist in front of him suggest,
we will say, typhoid fever. Now this conception of
typhoid fever is one that is capable of development.
If there is typhoid, wherever there is typhoid, there are
certain results, certain characteristic symptoms. By
going over mentally the full bearing of the concept of
typhoid, the scientist is instructed as to further phe-
nomena to be found. Its development gives him an
instrument of inquiry, of observation and experimenta-
tion. He can go to work deliberately to see whether

SYSTEMATIC INFERENCE 95

the case presents those features that it should have if
the supposition is valid. The deduced results form a
basis for comparison with observed results. Except
where there is a system of principles capable of being
elaborated by theoretical reasoning, the process of
testing (or proof) of a hypothesis is incomplete and
haphazard.

These considerations indicate the method by which Suchreason-
the deductive movement is guided. Deduction requires ^^t"^-**
a system of alUed ideas which may be translated into ^zed
one another by regular or graded steps. The question
is whether the facts that confront us can be identified
as typhoid fever. To all appearances, there is a great
gap between, them and typhoid. But if we can, by
some method of substitutions, go through a series of
intermediary terms (see p. 72), the gap may, after all,
be easily bridged. Typhoid may mean / which in turn
means 0, which means n which meaqs m, which is very
similar to the data selected as the key to the problem.

One of the chief objects of science is to provide for or definition
every typical branch of subject-matter a set of meanings fi^tion^^""
and principles so closely interknit that any one implies
some other according to definite conditions, which
under certain other conditions implies another, and so
on. In this way, various substitutions of equivalents
are possible, and reasoning can trace out, without having
recourse to specific observations, very remote conse-
quences of any suggested principle. Definition, general
formulas, and classification are the devices by which the
fixation and elaboration of a meaning into its detailed
ramifications are carried on. They are not ends in them-
selves — as they are frequently regarded even in ele-
mentary education — but instrumentaUties for facilitating

96

HOW WE THINK

the development of a conception into the form where
its applicability to given facts may best be tested.^

The final test of deduction lies in experimental ob-
servation. Elaboration by reasoning may make a sug-
gested idea very rich and very plausible, but it will not
settle the vahdity of that idea. Only if facts can be
observed (by methods either of collection or of experi-
mentation), that agree in detail and without exception
with the deduced results, are we justified in accepting
the deduction as giving a valid conclusion. Thinking,
in short, must end as well as begin in the domain of
concrete observations, if it is to be complete thinking.
And the ultimate educative value of all deductive pro-
cesses is measured by the degree to which they become
working tools in the creation and development of new
experiences.

§ 5. Some Educational Bearings of the Discussion

Educational Some of the points of the foregoing logical analysis

counterparts jjj^y ]-,g clinched bv a consideration of their educational

of false ■' ■'

logical implications, especially with reference to certain prac-

theonea tices that grow out of a false separation by which each
is thought to be independent of the other and complete
Isolation in itself. («') In some school subjects, or at all events
of "facts' }j^ some topics or in some lessons, the pupils are im-
mersed in details ; their minds are loaded with discon-
nected items (whether gleaned by observation and
memory, or accepted on hearsay and authority). ' In-
duction is treated as beginning and ending with the'
amassing of facts, of particular isolated pieces of in-
formation. That these items are educative only as
suggesting a view of some larger situation in which the
1 These processes are further discussed in Chapter IX.

SYSTEMATIC INFERENCE 97

particulars are included and thereby accounted for, is
ignored. In object lessons in elementary education and
in laboratory instruction in higher education, the sub-
ject is often so treated that the student fails to "see
the forest on account of the trees." Things and their
qualities are retailed and detailed, without reference to
a more general character which they stand for and
mean. Or, in the laboratory, the student becomes
engrossed in the processes of manipulation, — irrespec-
tive of the reason for their performance, without recog-
nizing a typical problem for the solution of which they
afford the appropriate method. Only deduction brings
out and emphasizes consecutive relationships, and only
when relationships are held in view does learning be-
come more than a miscellaneous scrap-bag.

{it) Again, the mind is allowed to hurry on to a vague Faauro to
notion of the whole of which the fragmentary facts are reasoning ^
portions, without any attempt to become conscious of
how they are bound together as parts of this whole. The
student feels that "in a general way," as we say, the
facts- of the history or geography lesson are related
thus and so; but "in a general way" here stands only
for "in a vague way," somehow or other, with no clear
recognition of just how.

The pupil is encouraged to form, on the basis of the
particular facts, a general notion, a conception of how
they stand related ; but no pains are taken to make the
student follow up the notion, to elaborate it and see just
what its bearings are upon the case in hand and upon
similar cases. The inductive inference, the guess, is
formed by the student ; if it happens to be correct, it is
at once accepted by the teacher ; or if it is false, it is re-
jected. If any amplification of the idea occurs, it is

98

HOW WE THINK

quite likely carried through by the teacher, who thereby
assumes the responsibility for its intellectual develop-
ment. But a complete, an integral, act of thought re-
quires that the person making the suggestion (the
guess)' be responsible also for reasoning out its bearings
upon the problem in hand ; that he develop the sugges-
tion at least enough to indicate the ways in which it
applies to and accounts for the specific data of the case.
Too often when a recitation does not consist in simply
testing the ability of the student to display some form of
technical skill, or to repeat facts and principles accepted
on the authority of textbook or lecturer, the teacher
goes to the opposite extreme ; and after calling out the
spontaneous reflections of the pupils, their guesses or
ideas about the matter, merely accepts or rejects them,
assuming himself the responsibility for their elaboration.
' In this way, the function of suggestion and of interpre-
tation is excited, but it is not directed and trained. In-
duction is stimulated but is not carried over into the
reasoning phase necessary to complete it.

In other subjects and topics, the deductive phase is
isolated, and is treated as if it were complete in itself.
This false isolation tnay show itself in either (and both)
of two points ; namely, at the beginning or at the end
of the resort to general intellectual procedure.

{lit) Beginning with definitions, rules, general princi-
ples, classifications, and the hke, is a common form
of the first error. This method has been such a uni-
form object of attack on the part of all educational re-
formers that it is not necessary to dwell upon it further
than to note that the mistake is, logically, due to the
attempt to introduce deductive considerations without
first making acquaintance with the particular facts that

SYSTEMATIC INFERENCE 99

create a need for the generalizing rational devices.
Unfortunately, the reformer sometimes carries his objec-
tion too far, or rather locates it in the wrong place. He
is led into a tirade against all definition, all systematiza-
tion, all use of general principles, instead of confining
himself to pointing out their futility and their deadness
when not properly motivated by familiarity with con-
crete experiences.

(iv) The isolation of deduction is seen, at the other end, isolation of
wherever there is failure to clinch and test the results ft^^'^^ec-
of the general reasoning processes by application to new tion of new
concrete cases. The final point of the deductive devices
lies in their use in assimilating and comprehending in-
dividual cases. No one understands a general principle
fully — no matter how adequately he can demonstrate
it, to say nothing of repeating it — till he can employ jt
in the mastery of new situations, which, if they are new,
differ in manifestation from the cases used in reaching the
generahzation. Too often the textbook or teacher is
contented with a series of somewhat perfunctory ex-
amples and illustrations, and the student is not forced to
carry the principle that he has formulated over into
further cases of his own experience. In so far, the
principle is inert and dead.

iv) It is only a variation upon this same theme to Lack of pro-
say that every complete act of reflective inquiry makes ^pe^^n.
provision for experimentation — for testing suggested tation
and accepted principles by employing them for the
active construction of new cases, in which new qualities
emerge. Only slowly do our schools accommodate
themselves to the general advance of scientific method.
From the scientific side, it is demonstrated thit effective
and integral thinking is possible only where the experi-

100 HOW WE THINK

mental method in some form is used. Some recog-
nition of this principle is evinced in higher institutions
of learning, colleges and high schools. But in elemen-
tary education, it is still assumed, for the most part,
that the pupil's natural range of observations, supple-
mented by what he accepts on hearsay, is adequate for
intellectual growth. Of course it is not necessary that
laboratories shall be introduced under that name, much
I less that elaborate apparatus be secured ;^but the en-
' tire scientific history of humanity demonstrates that
the conditions for complete mental activity will not be
obtained till adequate provision is made for the carrying
on of activities that actually modify physical conditions,
and that books, pictures, and even objects^ that are pas-
sively observed but not manipulated do not furnish the
provision required.

CHAPTER EIGHT
JUDGMENT: THE INTERPRETATION OF FACTS

§ I. The Three Factors of Judging

A MAN of good judgment in a given set of affairs is a Good
man in so far educated, trained, whatever may be his J"'*S"eit
literacy. And if our schools turn out their pupils in
that attitude of mind which is conducive to good judg-
ment in any department of affairs in which the pupils
are placed, they have done more than if they sent out
their pupils merely possessed of vast stores of informa-
tion, or high degrees of skill in speciaUzed branches.
To know what is good judgment we need first to know
what judgment is.

That there is an intimate connection between judg-
ment and inference is obvious enough. The aim of in-
ference is to terminate itself in an adequate judgment
of a situation, and the course of inference goes on through
a series of partial and tentative judgments. What are
these units, these terms of inference when we examine
them on their own account.' Their significant traits
may be readily gathered from a consideration of the
operations to which the word judgment was originally
applied : namely, the authoritative decision of matters in
legal controversy — the procedure of the judge on the
'bench. There are three such features: (i) a contro-
versy, consisting of opposite claims regarding the same
objective situation; (2) a process of defining and elabo-
rating these claims and of sifting the facts adduced to

102

HOW WE THINK

support them ; (3) a final decision, or sentence, closing
the particular matter in dispute and also serving as a
rule or principle for deciding future cases.

1. Unless there is something doubtful, the situation
is read off at a glance ; it is taken in on sight, i.e. there
is merely apprehension, perception, recognition, not
judgment. If the matter is wholly doubtful, if it is dark
and obscure throughout, there is a blind mystery and
again no judgment occurs. But if it suggests, however
vaguely, different meanings, rival possible interpreta-
tions, there is some point at issue, some matter at stake.
Doubt takes the form of dispute, controversy ; different
sides compete for a conclusion in their favor. Cases
brought to trial before a judge illustrate neatly and un-
ambiguously this strife of alternative interpretations ;
but any case of trying to clear up intellectually a doubt-
ful situation exemplifies the same traits. A moving
blur catches our eye in the distance ; we ask ourselves :
" What is it } Is it a cloud of whirling dust ? a tree
waving its branches .' a man signaling to us .' " Some-
thing in the total situation suggests each of these pos-
sible meanings. Only one of them can possibly be
sound ; perhaps none of them is appropriate ; yet some
meaning the thing in question surely has. Which of
the alternative suggested meanings has the rightful
claim } What does the perception really mean } How
is it to be interpreted, estimated, appraised, placed.'
Every j udgment proceeds from some such situation.

2. The hearing of the controversy, the trial, i.e. the
weighing of alternative claims, divides into two branches,
either of which, in a given case, may be more conspicu-
ous than the other. In the consideration of a legal dis-
pute, these two branches are sifting the evidence and

JUDGMENT: INTERPRETATION OF FACTS 103

selecting the rules that are appUcable ; they are " the
facts" and "the law" of the case. In judgment they
are (a) the determination of the data that are impor-
tant in the given case (compare the inductive move-
ment); and (b) the elaboration of the conceptions or
meanings suggested by the crude data (compare the
deductive movement), {a) What portions or aspects of
the situation are significant in controlUng the formation
of the interpretation 1 (b) Just what is the full meaning
and bearing of the conception that is used as a method
of interpretation .' These questions are strictly correla-
tive ; the answer to each depends upon the answer to
the other. We may, however, for convenience, consider
them separately.

{a) In every actual occurrence, there are many de- (a) by
tails which are part of the total occurrence, but which ^^t facts
nevertheless are not significant in relation to the point "^ evidence
at issue. All parts of an experience are equally pres-
ent, but they are very far from being of equal value as
signs or as evidences. Nor is there any tag or label on
any trait sayin'g : " This is important," or " This is
trivial." Nor is intensity, or vividness or conspicuous-
ness, a safe measure of indicative and proving value.
The glaring thing may be totally insignificant in this
particular situation, and the key to the understanding
of the whole matter may be modest or hidden (compare
p. 74). Features that are not significant are distracting ;
they proffer their claims to be regarded as clues and
cues to interpretation, while traits that are significant do
not appear on the surface at all. Hence, judgment is
required even in reference to the situation or event that
is present to the senses; elimination or rejection, selec-
tion, discovery, or bringing to light must take place.

104

HOW WE THINK

Till we have reached a final conclusion, rejection and
selection must be tentative or conditional. We select
the things that we hope or trust are cues to meaning.
But if they do not suggest a situation that accepts and
includes them (see p. 8i), we reconstitute our data, the
facts of the case ; for we mean, intellectually, by the
facts of the case those traits that are used as evidence
in reaching a conclusion or forming a decision. \

No hard and fast rules for this operation of selecting ,
and rejecting, or fixing upon the facts, can be given. It
all comes back, as we say, to the good judgment, the
good sense, of the one judging. To be a good judge is
to have a sense of the relative indicative or signifying
values of the various features of the perplexing situa-
tion ; to know what to let go as of no account ; what to
eliminate as irrelevant ; what to retain as conducive to
outcome ; what to emphasize as a clue to the difficulty.^
This power in ordinary matters we call knack, tact, clev-
erness ; in more important affairs, insight, discernment.
In part it is instinctive or inborn ; but it also represents
the funded outcome of long famiUarity with like opera-
tions in the past. Possession of this ability to seize
what is evidential or significant and to let the rest go is
the mark of the expert, the connoisseur, the judge, in
any matter.

Mill cites the following case, which is worth noting as
an instance of the extreme delicacy and accuracy to
which may be developed this power of sizing up the
significant factors of a situation. " A Scotch manufac-
turer procured from England, at a high rate of wages,
a working dyer, famous for producing veryjfine colors,
with the view of teaching to his other workmen the same
1 Compare what was said about analysis.

JUDGMENT: INTERPRETATION OF FACTS 10$

skill. The workman came ; but his method of propor-
tioning the ingredients, in which lay the secret of the
effects he produced, was by taking them up in handfuls,
while the common method was to weigh them. The
manufacturer sought to make him turn his handling
system into an equivalent weighing system, that the
general principles of his peculiar mode of proceeding
might be ascertained. This, however, the man found
himself quite unable to do, and could therefore impart
his own skill to nobody. He had, from individual cases
of his own experience, established a connection in his
mind between fine effects of color and tactual percep-
tions in handling his dyeing materials ; and from these
perceptions he could, in any particular case,] infer the
means to be employed and the effects which would be
produced." Long brooding over conditions, intimate
contact associated with keen interest, thorough absorp-
tion in a multiplicity of allied experiences, tend to bring
about those judgments which we then call intuitive ; but
they are true judgments because they are based on intel-
ligent selection and estimation, with the solution of a
problem as the controlling standard. Possession of this
capacity makes the difference between the artist and the
intellectual bungler.

Such is judging ability, in its completest form, as to
the data of the decision to be reached. But in any case j
there is a certain feeling along for the way to be f ol- i
lowed ; a constant tentative picking out of certain qual-i
ities to see what emphasis upon them would lead to ; aj
willingness to hold final selection in suspense ; and to;
reject the factors entirely or relegate thera to a different
position in the evidential scheme if other features yield
more solvent suggestions. Alertness, flexibility, curios-

io6

HOW WE THINK

ity are the essentials; dogmatism, rigidity, prejudice,
caprice, arising from routine, passion, and flippancy are
fatal.
(J) To de- (b) This selection of data is, of course, for the sake
tiw a°'r"*' °^ controlling the development and elaboration of the sug-
priate prin- gested meanmg in the light of which they are to be inter-
preted (compare p. "]€). An evolution of conceptions
thus goes on simultaneously with the determination of the
facts ; one possible meaning after another is held before
the mind, considered in relation to the data to which it
is applied, is developed into its more detailed bearings
upon the data, is dropped or tentatively accepted and
used. We do not approach any problem with a wholly
naYve or virgin mind ; we approach it with certain ac-
quired habitual modes of understanding, with a certain
store of previously evolved meanings, or at least of ex-
periences from which meanings may be educed. If the
circumstances are such that a habitual response is called
directly into play, there is an immediate grasp of mean-
ing. If the habit is checked, and inhibited from easy
application, a possible meaning for the facts in question
presents itself. No hard and fast rules decide whether
a meaning suggested is the right and proper meaning to
follow up. The individual's own good (or bad) judg-
ment is the guide. There is no label on any given idea
or principle which says automatically, "Use me in
this situation " — as the magic cakes of Alice in Won-
derland were inscribed " Eat me." The thinker has to
decide, to choose ; and there is always a risk, so that the
prudent thinker selects warily, subject, that is, to con-
firmation or frustration by later events. If one is not
able to estimate wisely what is relevant to the interpre-
tation of a given perplexing or doubtful issue, it avails

JUDGMENT! INTERPRETATION OF FACTS 107

little that arduous learning has built up a large stock of
concepts. For learning is not wisdom ; information does
not guarantee good judgment. Memory may provide an
antiseptic refrigerator in which to store a stock of mean-
ings for future use, but judgment selects and adopts the
one used in a given emergency — and without an emer-
gency (some crisis, slight or great) there is no call for
judgment. No conception, even if it is carefully and
firmly established in the abstract, can at first safely be
more than a candidate for the office of interpreter. Only
greater success than that of its rivals in clarifying dark
spots, untying hard knots, reconciling discrepancies, can
elect it or prove it a valid idea for the given situatipn.

3. The judgment when formed is a decision ; it closes Judging
(or concludes) the question at issue. This determination in^^* J/o„
not only settles that particular case, but it helps fix a <» statement
rule or method for deciding similar matters in the future ;
as the sentence of the judge on the bench both termi-
nates that dispute and also forms a precedent for future
decisions. If the interpretation settled upon is not con-
troverted by subsequent events, a presumption is built
up in favor of similar interpretation in other cases where
the features are not so obviously unlike as to make it
inappropriate. In this way, principles of judging are
gradually built up ; a certain manner of interpretation
gets weight, authority. In short, meanings get stand-
ardized, they become logical concepts (see below, p. 118).

§ 2. The Origin and Nature of Ideas

This brings us to the question of ideas in relation to Ideas are
judgments }■ Something in an obscure situation sug- '^^^^i^yll^

^ The term idea is also used popularly to denote (a) 'a mere fancy, (b) ™ juuging
an accepted belief, and also (<r) judgment itself. But logically it denotes a
certain/fe£^2Jn_judgHaen^ as explained in the text.

I08 HOW WE THINK

gests something else as its meaning. If this meaning is
at once accepted, there is no reflective thinking, no
genuine judging. Thought is cut short uncritically ;
dogmatic beUef, with all its attending risks, takes place.
But if the meaning suggested is held in suspense, pend-
ing examination and inquiry, there is true judgment.
We stop and think, we de-fer conclusion in order to
infer more thoroughly. In this process of being only
conditionally accepted, accepted only for examination,
meanings become ideas. That is to say, an idea is a
meaning that is tentatively entertained, formed, and
used with reference to its fitness to decide a per-
plexing situation, — a meaning used as a tool of
judgment.

Let us recur to our instance of a blur in motion
appearing at a distance. We wonder what the thing is,
i.e. what the blur means. A man waving his arms, a
friend beckoning to us, are suggested as possibilities.
To accept at once either alternative is to arrest judg-
ment. But if we treat what is suggested as only a sug-
gestion, a supposition, a possibility, it becomes an idea,
having the following traits : {a) As merely a suggestion,
it is a conjecture, a guess, which in cases of greater dig-
nity we call a hypothesis or a theory. That is to say,
it is a possible but as yet doubtful mode of interpretation.
(J)) Even though doubtful, it has an office to perform;
namely, that of directing inquiry and examination. If
this blur means a friend beckoning, then careful obser-
vation should show certain other traits. If it is a man
driving unruly cattle, certain other traits should be
found. Let us look and see if these traits are found.
Taken merely as a doubt, an idea would paralyze in-
quiry. Taken merely as a certainty, it would arrest

JUDGMENT: INTERPRETATION OF FACTS I09

inquiry. Taken as a doubtful possibility, it affords a
standpoint, a platform, a method of inquiry.

Ideas are not then genuine ideas unless they are tools Pseudo-ideas
in a reflective examination which tends to solve a
problem. Suppose it is a question of having the
pupil grasp the idea of the sphericity of the earth.
I This is different from teaching him its sphericity as a
fact. He may be shown (or reminded of) a ball or a
globe, and be told that the earth is round Uke those
things ; he may then be made to repeat that statement
day after day till the shape of the earth and the shape
of the ball are welded together in bis mind. But he has
not thereby acquired any idea of the earth's sphericity ;
at most, he has had a certain image of a sphere and
has finally managed to image the earth after the analogy
of his ball image. To grasp sphericity as an idea, the
pupil must first have realized certain perplexities or
confusing features in observed facts and have had the
idea of spherical shape suggested to him as a possible
way of accounting for the phenomena in question.
Only by use as a method of interpreting data so as to
give them fuller meaning does sphericity become a gen-
uine idea. There may be a vivid image and no idea ;
or there may be a fleeting, obscure image and yet an
idea, if that image performs the function of instigating
and directing the observation and relation of facts.

Logical ideas are Uke keys which are shaping with laeasfunush
reference to opening a lock. Pike, separated by a tiieoniy^-
glass partition from the fish upon which they ordinarily " hit or
prey, will — so it is said — butt their heads against the ^thods
glass until it is literally beaten into them that they cannot
get at their food. Animals learn (when they learn at
all) by a " cut and try " method ; by doing at random

no HOW WE THINK

first one thing and another thing and then preserving
the things that happen to succeed. Action directed
consciously by ideas — by suggested meanings accepted
for the sake of experimenting with them — is the
sole alternative both to bull-headed stupidity and
to learning bought from that dear teacher — chance
experience.

It is significant that many words for intelligence
suggest the idea of circuitous, evasive activity — often
with a sort of intimation of even moral obliquity. The
bluff, hearty man goes straight (and stupidly, it is im-
plied) at some work. The intelligent man is cunning,
shrewd (crooked), wily, subtle, crafty, artful, designing
— the idea of indirection is involved.^ An idea is a
method of evading, circumventing, or surmounting
through reflection obstacles that otherwise would have
to be attacked by brute force. But ideas may lose their
intellectual quality as they are habitually used. When
a child was first learning to recognize, in some hesitat-
ing suspense, cats, dogs, houses, marbles, trees, shoes,
and other objects, ideas — conscious and tentative mean-
ings — intervened as methods of identification. Now,
as a rule, the thing and the meaning are so completely
fused that there is no judgment and no idea proper, but
only automatic recognition. On the other hand, things
that are, as a rule, directly apprehended and familiar
become subjects of judgment when tljey present them-
selves in unusual contexts : as forms, distances, sizes,
positions when we attempt to draw them ; triangles,
squares, and circles when they turn up, not in connec-
tion with familiar toys, implements, and utensils, but
as problems in geometry.

1 See Ward, Psychic Factors of Civilization, p. 153.

JUDGMENT: INTERPRETATION OF FACTS ill

§ 3- Analysis and Synthesis

Through judging confused data are cleared up, and Judging
seemingly incoherent and disconnected facts brought ^^^g"^
together. Things may have a peculiar feeling for us, analysis
they may make a certain indescribable impression upon
us ; the thing mzy feel round (that is, present a quality
which we afterwards define as round), an act may seem
rude (or what we afterwards classify as rude), and yet
this quality may be lost, absorbed, blended in the total
value of the situation. Only as we need to use just that
aspect of the original situation as a tool of grasping
something perplexing or obscure in another situation,
do we abstract or detach the quality so that it becomes
individualized. Only because we need to characterize
the shape of some new object or the moral quality of
some new act, does the element of roundness or rudeness
in the old experience detach itself, and stand out as a
distinctive feature. If the element thus selected clears
up what is otherwise obscure in the new experience, if
it settles what is uncertain, it thereby, itself gains in
positiveness and definiteness of meaning. This point
will meet us again in the following chapter; here we
shall speak of the matter only as it bears upon the
questions of analysis and synthesis.

Even when it is definitely stated that intellectual and Mental
physical analyses are different sorts of operations, in- ^^ ^^ ^
tellectual analysis is often treated after the analogy of physical
physical ; as if it were the breaking up of a whole into
all its constituent parts in the mind instead of in space.
As nobody can possibly tell what breaking a whole into
its parts in the mind means, this conception leads to the
further notion that logical analysis is a mere enumera-
tion and listing of all conceivable qualities and relatioijs.

112

HOW WE THINK

The influence upon education of this conception has
been very great.^ Every subject in the curriculum has
passed through — or still remains in — what may be
called the phase of anatomical or morphological method :
the stage in which understanding the subject is thought
to consist of multiplying distinctions of quality, form,
relation, and so on, and attaching some name to each
distinguished element. In normal growth, specific
properties are emphasized and so individualized only
when they serve to clear up a present difficulty. Only
as they are involved in judging some specific situation
is there any motive or use for analyses, i.e. for emphasis
upon some element or relation as peculiarly significant.
The same putting the cart before the horse, the prod-
uct before the process, is found in that overconscious
formulation of methods of procedure so current in ele-
mentary instruction. (See p. 60.) The method that
is employed in discovery, in reflective inquiry, cannot
possibly be identified with the method that emerges
after the discovery is made. In the genuine operation
of inference, the mind is in the attitude of search, of
hunting, oi projection, of trying this and that ; when the
conclusion is reached, the search is at an end. The
Greeks used to discuss : " How is learning (or inquiry)
possible.' For either we know already what we are
after, and then we do not learn or inquire; or we do
not know, and then we cannot inquire, for we do not
know what to look for." The dilemma is at least sug-
gestive, for it points to the true al1;,ernative : the use in
inquiry of doubt, of tentative suggestion, of experimen-

^ Thus arise all those falsely analytic methods in geography, reading,
writing, drawing, botany, arithmetic, which we have already considered in
another connection. (See p. 59.)

JUDGMENT: INTERPRETATION OF FACTS 1 13

tation. After we have reached the conclusion, a recon-
sideration of the steps of the process to see what is
helpful, what is harmful, what is merely useless, will
assist in dealing more promptly and efficaciously with
analogous problems in the future. In this way, more or
less explicit method is gradually built up. (Compare
the earlier discussion on p. 62 of the psychological and
the logical.)

It is, however, a common assumption that unless the Method
pupil from the outset consciously recognizes and explicitly before its
states the method logically implied in the result he is to fonnuiation
reach, he will have no method, and his mind will work
confusedly or anarchically ; while if he accompanies his
performance with conscious statement of some form of
procedure (outline, topical analysis, list of headings and
subheadings, uniform formula) his mind is safeguarded
and strengthened. As a matter of fact, the develop-
ment of an unconscious logical attitude and habit must
come first. A conscious setting forth of the method
logically adapted for reaching an end is possible only
after the result has first been reached by more uncon-
scious and tentative methods, while it is valuable only
when a review of the method that achieved success in a
given case will throw light upon a new, similar case.
The ability to fasten upon and single out (abstract,
analyze) those features of one experience which are
logically best is hindered by premature insistence upon
their expUcit formulation. It is repeated use that gives
a method definiteness ; and given this definiteness, pre-
cipitation into formulated statement should follow natu-
rally. But because teachers find that the things which
they themselves best understand are marked off and de-
fined in clear-cut ways, our schoolrooms are pervaded

114

HOW we; think

wkh the superstition that children are to begin with
already crystallized formulae of method.

As analysis is conceived to be a sort of picking to
pieces, so synthesis is thought to be a sort of physical
piecing together; and so imagined, it also becomes a
mystery. In fact, synthesis takes place wherever we
grasp the bearing of facts on a conclusion, or of a prin-
ciple on facts. As analysis is emphasis, so synthesis is
placing; the one causes the emphasized fact or property
to stand out as significant; the other gives what is se-
lected its context, or its connection with what is signified.
Every judgment is analytic in so far as it involves dis-
cernment, discrimination, marking off the trivial from
the important, the irrelevant from what points to a con-
clusion ; and it is synthetic in so far as it leaves the mind
with an inclusive situation within which the selected
facts are placed.

Educational methods that pride themselves on being .
exclusively analytic or exclusively synthetic are therefore
(so far as they carry out their boasts) incompatible with
normal operations of judgment. Discussions have taken
place, for example, as to whether the teaching of geogra-
phy should be analytic or synthetic. The synthetic
method is supposed to begin with the partial, limited
portion of the earth's surface already familiar to the
pupil, and then gradually piece on adjacent regions (the
county, the country, the continent, and so on) till an
idea of tlje entire globe is reached, or of the solar system
that includes the globe. The analytic method is supposed
to begin with the physical whole, the solar system or
globe, and to work down through its constituent portions
till the immediate environment is reached. The under-
lying conceptions are of physical wholes and physical

JUDGMENT: INTERPRETATION OF FACTS 115

parts. As matter of fact, we cannot assume that the
portion of the earth already familiar to the^child is such
a definite object, mentally, that he can at once begin with
it ; his knowledge of it is misty and vague as well as in-
complete. Accordingly, mental progress will involve
analysis of it — emphasis of the features that are signifi-
cant, so that they will stand out clearly. Moreover, his
own locality is not sharply marked off, neatly bounded,
and measured. His experience of it is already an ex-
perience that involves sun, moon, and stars as parts of
the scene he surveys ; it involves a changing horizon
line as he moves about ; that is, even his more limited
and local experience involves far-reaching factors that
take his imagination clear beyond his own street and
village. Connection, relationship with a larger whole, is
already involved. But his recognition of these relations
is inadequate, vague, incorrect. He needs to utilize the
features of the local environment which are understood
to help clarify and enlarge his conceptions of the larger
geographical scene to which they belong. At the same
time, not till he has grasped the larger scene will many
of even the commonest features of his environment
become intelligible. Analysis leads to synthesis ; while
synthesis perfects analysis. As the pupil grows in com- \
prehension of the vast complicated earth in its setting in
space, he also sees more definitely the meaning of the
familiar local details. This intimate interaction between
selective emphasis and interpretation of what i^ selected
is found wherever reflection proceeds normally. Hence
the folly of trying to set analysis and synthesis over
against each other.

CHAPTER NINE
MEANING: OR CONCEPTIONS AND UNDERSTANDING

§ I. The Place of Meanings in Mental Life

As in our discussion of judgment we were making
more explicit what is involved in inference, so in the
discussion of meaning we are only recurring to the
central function of all reflection. For one thing to
-mean, signify, betoken, indicate, or point to, another we
saw at the outset to be the essential mark of thinking
(see p. 8). To find out what facts, just as they stand,
mean, is the object of all discovery ; to find out what
facts will carry out, substantiate, support a given mean-
ing, is the object of all testing. When an inference
reaches a satisfactory conclusion, we attain a goal of
meaning. The act of judging involves both the growth
and the application of meanings. In short, in this chap-
ter we are not introducing a new topic ; we are only
coming to closer quarters with what hitherto has been
constantly assumed. In the first section, we shall con-
sider the equivalence of meaning and understanding,
and the two types of understanding, direct and indirect.

I. Meaning and Understanding

If a person comes suddenly into your room and calls

out " Paper," various alternatives are possible. If you

do not understand the English lafaguage, there is simply

a noise which may or may not act as a physical stimulus

Ii6

MEANING 117

and irritant. But the noise is not an intellectual object ; it
does not have intellectual value. (Compare above, p. 15.)
To say that you do not understand it and that it has no
meaning are equivalents. If the cry is the usual ac-
companiment of the delivery of the morning pap^r, the
sound will have meaning, intellectual content ; you will
understand it. Or if you are eagerly awaiting the re-
ceipt of some important document, you may assume
that the cry means an announcement of its arrival. If
(in the third place) you understand the English lan-
guage, but no context suggests itself from your habits
and expectations, the word has meaning, but not the
whole event. You are then perplexed and incited to
think out, to hunt for, some explanation of the appar-
ently meaningless occurrence. If you find something
that accounts for the performance, it gets meaning ; you
come to understand it. As intelligent beings, we pre-
sume the existence of meaning, and its absence is an
anomaly. Hence, if it should turn out that the person
merely meant to inform you that there was a scrap of
paper on the sidewalk, or that paper existed somewhere
in the universe, you would think him crazy or your-
self the victim of a poor joke. To grasp s£ meaning, to
understand, to identify a thing in a situation in which
it is important, are thus equivalent terms ; they express
the nerves of our intellectual life. Without them
there is («) lack of intellectual content, or ((5) intellec-
tual confusion and perplexity, or' else {c) intellectual
perversion — nonsense, insanity.

All knowledge, all science, thus aims to grasp the Knowledge
meaning of objects and events, and this process always ^ "neamng
consists in taking them out of their apparent brute iso-
lation as events, and finding them to be parts of some

ii8

HOW WE THINK

larger whole suggested by them, which, in turn, accounts
for, explains, interprets them ; i.e. renders them signifi-
cant. (Compare above, p. 75.) Suppose that a stone
with peculiar markings has been found. What do these
scratches mean ? So far as the object forces the raising
of this question, it is not understood ; while so far as
the color and form that we see mean to us a stone, the
object is understood. It is such peculiar combinations
of the understood and the nonunderstood that provoke
thought. If at the end of the inquiry, the markings
are decided to mean glacial scratches, obscure and
perplexing traits have been translated into meanings
already understood : namely, the moving and grinding
power of large bodies of ice and the friction thus
induced of one rock upon another. Something al-
ready understood in one situation has been transferred
and applied to what is strange and perplexing in another,
and thereby the latter has become plain and familiar, i.e.
understood. This summary illustration discloses that
our power to think effectively depends upon possession
of a capital fund of meanings which may be applied
when desired. (Compare what was said about deduction,
P- 94-)

II. Direct and Indirect Understanding

In the above illustrations two types of grasping of
meaning are exemplified. When the English language
is understood, the person grasps at once the meaning of
"paper." He may not, however, see any meaning or
sense in the performance as a whole. Similarly, the
person identifies the object on sight as a stone ; there
is no secret, no mystery, no perplexity about that. But
he does not understand the markings on it. They have

MEANING 1 19

some meaning, but what is it ? In one case, owing to
familiar acquaintance, the thing and its meaning, up to
a certain point, are one. In the other, the thing and its
meaning are, temporarily at least, sundered, and meaning ,
has to be sought in order to understand the thing. In
one case understanding is direct, prompt, immediate ; in
the other, it is roundabout and delayed.

Most languages have two sets of words to express interaction
these two modes of understanding ; one for the direct ^^1^
taking in or grasp of meaning, the other for its circui-
tous apprehension, thus : <yv5)vai and elSe'vai in Greek ;
noscere and scire in Latin ; kennen and wissen in German ;
connattre and savoir in French ; while in English to be
acquainted with and to know of or qbotit have been sug-
gested as equivalents.^ Now our intellectual life con-
sists of a peculiar interactign between these two types of
understanding. All judgment, all reflective inference,
presupposes some lack of understanding, a partial
absence of meaning. We reflect in order that we may
get hold of the full and adequate significance of what
happens. Nevertheless, something must be already
understood, the mind must be in posseesion of some
meaning which it has mastered, or else thinking is im-
possible. We think in order to grasp meaning, but
none the less every extension of knowledge makes us
aware of blind and opaque spots, where with less knowl-
edge all had seemed obvious and natural. A scientist
brought into a new district will find many things that
he does not understand, where the native savage or

1 James, Principles of Psychology, vol. I, p. 221. To know and to
know thai axe perhaps more precise equivalents; compare "I know him"
and "I know that he has gone home." The former expresses a fact
simply ; for the latter, evidence might be demanded and supplied.

I20

HOW WE THINK

rustic will be wholly oblivious to any meanings beyond
those directly apparent. Some Indians brought to a
large city remained stolid at the sight of mechanical
wonders of bridge, trolley, and telephone, but were held
spellbound by the sight of workmen climbing poles to
repair wires. Increase of the store of meanings makes
us conscious of new problems, while only through trans-
lation of the new perplexities into what is already familiar
and plain do we understand or solve these problems.
This is the constant spiral movement of knowledge.

Our progress in genuine knowledge always consists in
part in the discovery of something not underitood in what
had previously been taken for granted as plain, obvious,
matter-of-course, and in part in the use of meanings that
are directly grasped without question, as instruments
for getting hold of obscure, doubtful, and perplexing
meanings. No object is so familiar, so obvious, so
commonplace that it may not unexpectedly present, in a
novel situation, some problem, and thus arouse reflec-
tion in order to understand it. No object or principle is
so strange, peculiar, or remote that it may not be dwelt
upon till its meaning becomes familiar — taken in on
sight without reflection. We may come to see, perceive,
recognize, grasp, seise, lay ^o/i^ ^principles, laws, abstract
truths — i.e. to understand their meaning in very im-
mediate fashion. Our intellectual progress consists, as
has been said, in a rhythm of direct understanding —
technically called a/prehension — with indirect, mediated
understanding — technically called comprehension.

§ 2. The Process of Acquiring Meanings

■FamUiarity The first problem that comes up in connection with
direct understanding is how a store of directly apprehen-

MEANING 121

sible meanings is built up. Howdo we learn to view things
on sight as significant members of a situation, or as
having, as a matter of course, specific meanings ? Our
chief difficulty in answering this question lies in the
thoroughness with which the lesson of familiar things
has been learnt. Thought can more easily traverse an
unexplored region than it can undo what has been so
thoroughly done as to be ingrained in unconscious
habit. We apprehend chairs, tables, books, trees,
horses, clouds, stars, rain, so promptly and directly that
it is hard to realize that as meanings they had once to
be acquired, — the meanings are now so much parts of
the things themselves.

In an often quoted passage, Mr. James has said : " The Confusion
baby, assailed by eyes, ears, nose, skin, and entrails at J^^j^jL
once, feels it all as one .great blooming, buzzing con-
fusion." ^ Mr. James is speaking of a baby's world
taken as a whole ; the description, however, is equally
applicable to the way any new thing strikes an adult, so
far as the thing is really new and strange. To the tra-
■ ditional " cat in a strange garret," everything is blurred
and confused ; the wonted marks that label things so as
to separate them from one another are lacking. Foreign
languages that we do not understand always seem jab-
berings, babblings, in which it is impossible to fix a defi-
nite, clear-cut, individualized group of sounds. The
countryman in the crowded city street, the landlubber
at sea, the ignoramus in sport at a contest between ex-
perts in a complicated game, are further instances. Put
an unexperienced man in a factory, and at first the work
seems to. him a meaningless medley. All strangers of
another race proverbially look alike to the visiting
1 Principles of Psychology, vol. I, p. 488.

122

HOW WE THINK

foreigner. Only gross differences of size or color are
perceived by an outsider in a flock of sheep, each of
which is perfectly individualized to the shepherd. A
diffusive blur and an indiscriminately shifting suction
characterize what we do not understand. The problem
of the acquisition of meaning by things, or (stated in
another way) of forming habits of simple apprehension,
is thus the problem of introducing (i) definiteness and
distinction and (w) consistency or stability of meaning
into what is otherwise vague and wavering.

The acquisition of definiteness and of coherency (or
constancy) of meanings is derived primarily from practi-
cal activities. By rolling an object, the child makes its
roundness appreciable; by bouncing it, he singles out
its elasticity ; by throwing it, he makes weight its conspic-
uous distinctive factor. Not through the senses, but by
means of the reaction, the responsive adjustment, is the
impression made distinctive, and given a character
marked off from other qualities that call out unlike re-
actions. Children, for example, are usually quite slow
in apprehending differences of color. Differences from
the standpoint of the adult so glaring that it is impossible
not to note them are recognized and recalled with great
difficulty. Doubtless they do not 2X\.feel alike, but there
is no intellectual recognition of what makes the differ-
ence. The redness or greenness .or blueness of the object
does not tend to call out a reaction that is sufficiently
peculiar to give prominency or distinction to the color
trait. Gradually, however, certain characteristic habitual
responses associate themselves with certain things ; the
white becomes the sign, say, of milk and sugar, to which
the child reacts favorably ; blue becomes the sign of a
dress that the child likes to wear, and so on ; and the

MEANING 123

distinctive reactions tend to single out color qualities
from other things in which they had been submerged.

Take another example. We have little difficulty in We identify
distinguishing from one another rakes, hoes, plows and ^ "^f ""^
harrows, shovels and spades. Each has its own associ-
ated characteristic use and function. We may have,
however, great difficulty in recalling the difference be-
tween serrate and dentate, ovoid and obovoid, in the
shapes and edges of leaves, or between acids in ic and
in ous. There is some difference ; but just what ? Or,
we know what the difference is ; but which is which .'
Variations in form, size, color, and arrangement of parts
have much less to do, and the uses, purposes, and func-
tions of things and of their parts much more to do,
with distinctness of character and meaning than we
should be likely to think. What misleads us is the fact
that the qualities of form, size, color, and so on, are
now so distinct that we fail to see that the problem is
precisely to account for the way in which they origi-
nally obtained their definiteness and conspicuousness.
So far as we sit passive before objects, they are not dis-
tinguished out of a vague blur which swallows them all.
Differences in the pitch and intensity of sounds leave
behind a different feeling, but until we assume different
attitudes toward them, or do something special in refer-
ence to them, their vague difference cannot be intel-
lectually gripped and retained.

Cfiildren's drawings afford a further exemplification Children's
of the same principle. Perspective does not exist, for mutate
the child's interest is not in pictorial representation, but domination
in the ^/^2«^j . represented ; and while perspective is ^ "®
essential to the former, it is no part of the characteristic
uses and values of the things themselves. The house

124 HOW WE THINK

is drawn with transparent walls, because the rooms,
chairs, beds, people inside, are the important things in
the house-meaning; smoke always comes out of the
chimney — otherwise, why have a chimney at all ? At
Christmas time, the stockings may be drawn almost as
large as the house or even so large that they have to be
put outside of it : — in any case, it is the scale of values
in use that furnishes the scale for their qualities, the pic-
tures being diagrammatic reminders of these values, not
impartial records of physical and sensory qualities. One
of the chief difficulties felt by most persons in learn-
ing the art of pictorial representation is that habitual uses
and results of use have become so intimately read into
the character of things that it is practically impossible to
shut them out at will.

The acquiring of meaning by sounds, in virtue of which
they become words, is perhaps the most striking illustra-
tion that can be found of the way in which mere sensory
stimuli acquire definiteness and constancy of meaning
and are thereby themselves defined and interconnected
for purposes of recognition. Language is a specially
good example because there are hundreds or even thou-
sands of words in which meaning is now so thoroughly
consolidated with physical qualities as to be directly
apprehended, while in the case of words it is easier
to recognize that this connection has been gradually and
laboriously acquired than in the case of physical objects
such as chairs, tables, buttons, trees, stones, hills, flowers,
and so on, where it seems as if the union of intellectual
character and meaning with the physical fact were abo-
riginal, and thrust upon us passively rather than acquired
through active explorations. And in the case of the
meaning of words, we see readily that it is by making

MEANING 125

sounds and noting the results which follow, by listening
to the sounds of others and watching the activities
which accompany them, that a given sound finally
becomes the stable bearer of a meaning.

Familiar acquaintance with meanings thus signifies Summary
that we have acquired in the presence of objects definite ;
attitudes of response which lead us, without reflection, ;
to anticipate certain possible consequences. The defi- ;
niteness of the expectation defines the meaning or takes
it out of the vague and pulpy ; its habitual, recurrent '.
character gives the meaning constancy, stability, con-
sistency, or takes it out of the fluctuating, and wavering. '

§ 3. Conceptions and Meaning

The word meaning is a familiar everyday term ; the A concep-
words conception, notion, are both popular and technical *'°f' '.^ ^
terms. Strictly speaking, they involve, however, noth- meaning
ing new ; any meaning sufficiently individualized to be
directly grasped and readily used, and thus fixed by a
word, is a conception or notion. Linguistically, every
common noun is the carrier of a meaning, while proper
nouns and common nouns with the word this or that pre-
fixed, refer to the things in which the meanings are ex-
emplified. That thinking both employs and expandg
notions, conceptions, is then simply saying that in infer-
ence and judgment we use meanings, and that this use
also corrects and widens them.

Various persons talk about an object not physically which is
present, and yet all get the same material of belief. ■*g^'^"'*"
The same person in different moments often refers to the
same object or kind of objects. The sense experience,
the physical conditions, the psychological conditions,
vary, but the same meaning is conserved. If pounds

126

HOW WE THINK

arbitrarily changed their weight, and foot rules their
length, while we were using them, obviously we could
not weigh nor measure. This would be our intellectual
position if meanings could not be maintained with a cer-
tain stability and constancy through a variety of physical
and personal changes.

To insist upon the fundamental importance of concep-
tions would, accordingly, only repeat what has been
said. We shall merely summarize, saying that concep-
tions, or standard meanings, are instruments (?) of iden-
tification, (w) of supplementation, and {in) of placing
in a system. Suppose a little speck of light hitherto
unseen is detected in the heavens. Unless there is a
store of meanings to fall back upon as tools of inquiry
and reasoning, that speck of light will remain just what
it is to the senses — a mere speck of light. For all that
it leads to, it might as well be a mere irritation of the
optic nerve. Given the stock of meanings acquired in
prior experience, this speck of light is mentally attacked
by means of appropriate concepts. Does it indicate
asteroid, or comet, or a new-forming sun, or a nebula
resulting from some cosmic collision or disintegration ?
Each of these conceptions has its own specific and dif-
ferentiating characters, which are then sought for by
minute and persistent inquiry. As a result, then, the
speck is identified, we will say, as a comet. Through
a standard meaning, it gets identity and stability of
character. Supplementation then takes place. All
the known qualities of comets are read into this par-
ticular thing, even though they have not been as yet
observed. All that the astronomers of the past have
learned about the paths and structure of comets be-
comes available capital with which to interpret the speck

MEANING

of light. Finally, this comet-meaning is itself not iso-
lated; it is a related portion of the whole system of
astronomic knowledge. Suns, planets, satelUtes, neb-
ulae, comets, meteors, star dust — all these conceptions
have a certain mutuahty of reference and interaction,
and when the speck of light is identified as meaning a
comet, it is at once adopted as a full member in this vasj;
kingdom of beliefs.

Darwin, in an autobiographical sketch, says that
when a youth he told the geologist, Sidgwick, of find-
ing a tropical shell in a certain gravel pit. Thereupon
Sidgwick said it must have been thrown there by some
person, adding: "But if it were really embedded there,
it would be the greatest misfortune to geology, because
it would overthrow all that we know about the superficial
deposits of the Midland Counties " — since they were
glacial. And then Darwin adds : " I was then utterly
astonished at Sidgwick not being deUghted at so won-
derful a fact as a tropical shell being found near the
surface in the middle of England. Nothing before had
made me thoroughly realize that science consists in group-
ing facts so that general laws or conclusions may be drawn
from them." This instance'(which might, of course, be
duplicated from any branch of science) indicates how
scientific notions make explicit the systematizing tend-
ency involved in all use of concepts.

§ 4. What Conceptions are Not

The idea that a conception is a meaning that sup-
plies a standard rule for the identification and placing
of particulars may be contrasted with some purrent mis-
apprehensions of its nature.

I. Conceptions are not derived from a multitude of

128 HOW WE THINK

different definite objects by leaving out the qualities in
which they differ and retaining those in which they agree.
The origin of concepts is sometimes described to be as
if a child began with a lot of different particular things,
say particular dogs ; his own Fido, his neighbor's Carlo,
his cousin's Tray. Having all these different objects be-
fore him, he analyzes them into a lot of different quali-
ties, say {a) color, (5) size, (c) shape, {d) number of legs,
(e) quantity and quality of hair, (/) digestive organs,
and so on; and then strikes out all the unHke qualities
(such as color, size, shape, hair), retaining traits such
as quadruped and domesticated, which they all have in
general.

As a matter of fact, the child begins with whatever
significance he has got out of the one dog he has seen,
heard, and handled. He has found that he can carry
over from one experience of this object to subsequent
experience certain expectations of certain characteristic
modes of behavior — may expect these even before
they show themselves. He tends to assume this attitude
of anticipation whenever any clue or stimulus presents
itself; whenever the object gives him any excuse for
it. Thus he might call cats little dogs, or horses
big dogs. But finding that other expected traits and
modes of behavior are not, fulfilled, he is forced to
throw out certain traits frpm the dog-meaning, while
by contrast (see p. 90) certain other traits are selected
and emphasized. As he further applies the meaning to
other dogs, the dog-meaning gets still further defined
and refined. He does not begin with a lot of ready-
made objects from which he extracts a common mean-
ing ; he tries to apply to every new experience whatever
from his old experience will help him understand it,

MEANING 129

and as this process of constant assumption and experi-
mentation is fulfilled and refuted by results, his concep-
tions get body and clearness.

2. Similarly, conceptions are general because of their it is general
use and application, not because of their ingredients, orus^appii-
The view of the origin of conception in an impossible cation
sort of analysis has as its counterpart the 'idea that the
conception is made up out of all the like elements that
remain after dissection of a number of individuals. Not
so ; the moment a meaning is gained, it is a working
tool of further apprehensions, an instrument of under-
standing other things. Thereby the meaning is extended
to cover them. Generality resides in application to the
comprehension of new cases, not in constituent parts.
A collection of traits left as the common residuum, the
caput mortuum, of a million objects, would be merely a
collection, an inventory or aggregate, not a general idea ;
a striking trait emphasized in any one experience which
then served to help understand some one other experi-
ence, would become, in virtue of that service of applica-
tion, in so far general. Synthesis is not a matter of ;
mechanical addition, but of application of something \
discovered in one case to bring other cases into line. '

§ 5. Definition and Organization of Meanings

A being that cannot understand at all is at least pro-
tected from ^/.f-understandings. But beings that get
knowledge by mea^js of inferring and interpreting, by
judging what things signify in relation to one another,
are constantly exposed to the danger of ^w-apprehension,
OTz'j-understanding, «w-taking — taking a thing amiss.
A constant source of misunderstanding and mistake
is indefiniteness of meaning. Through vagueness of

130

HOW WE THINK

meaning we misunderstand other people, things, and our-
selves ; through its ambiguity we distort and pervert.
Conscious distortion of meaning may be enjoyed as
nonsense ; erroneous meanings, if clear-cut, may be
followed up and got rid of. But vague meanings are
too gelatinous to offer matter for analysis, and too
pulpy to afford support to other beliefs. They evade test-
ing and responsibility. Vagueness disguises the uncon-
scious mixing together of different meanings, and fa-
cilitates the substitution of one meaning for another, and
covers up the failure to have any precise meaning at all.
It is the aboriginal logical sin — the source from which
flow most bad intellectual consequences. Totally to
eliminate indefiniteness is impossible; to. reduce it in ex-
tent and in force requires sincerity and vigor. To be
clear or perspicuous a meaning must be detached, single,
self-contained, homogeneous as it were, throughout.
The technical name for any meaning which is thus indi-
vidualized is intension. The process of arriving at such
units of meaning (and of stating them when reached) is
definition. The intension of the terms man, river, seed,
honesty, capital, supreme court, is the meaning that
exclusively and characteristically attaches to those terms.
This meaning is set forth in the definitions of those
words. The test of the distinctness of a meaning is
that it shall successfully mark off a group of things
that exemplify the meaning from other groups, especially
of those objects that convey nearly allied meanings.
The river-meaning (or character) must serve to designate
the Rhone, the Rhine, the Mississippi, the Hudson, the
Wabash, in spite of their varieties of place, length,
quality of water ; and must be such as not to suggest
ocean currents, ponds, or brooks. This use of a mean-

MEANING 131

ing to mark off and group together a variety of distinct
existences constitutes its extension.

As definition sets forth intension, so division (or the ' Definition
reverse process, classification) expounds extension. In- i ^"'j .
tension and extension, definition and division, are clearly
correlative; in language previously used, /»^^«j-/(7« is mean-
ing as a principle of identifying particulars ; extension is
the group of particulars identified and distinguished.
Meaning, as extension, would be wholly in the air or unreal,
did it not point to some object or group of objects ; while
objects would be as isolated and independent intellec-
tually as they seem to be spatially, were they not bound
into groups or classes on the basis of characteristic
meanings which they constantly suggest and exempfify.
Taken together, definition and division put us in posses-
sion of individualized or definite meanings and indicate
to what group of objects meanings refer. They typify
the fixation and the organization of meanings. In the
degree in which the meanings of any set of experiences
are so cleared up as to serve as principles for grouping
those experiences in relation to one another, that set of
particulars becomes a science ; i.e. definition and classic
fication are the marks of a science, as distinct from both
unrelated heaps of miscellaneous information and from
the habits that introduce coherence into our experience
without our being aware of their operation.

Definitions are of three types, denotative, expository,
scientific. Of these, the first and third are logically
important, while the expository type is socially and
pedagogically important as an intervening step.

I. Denotative. A bHnd man can never have an We define
adequate understanding of the meaning of color and red ; l"? P"^"ig
a seeing persort can acquire the knowledge only by hav-

132

HOW WE THINK

ing certain things designated in such a way as to fix at-
tention upon some of their qualities. This method of
delimiting a meaning by calling out a certain attitude
toward objects may be called denotative or indicative.
It is required for all sense qualities — sounds, tastes,
colors — and equally for all emotional and moral qualities.
The meanings of honesty, sympathy, hatred, fear, must be
grasped by having them presented in an individual's
first-hand experience. The reaction of educational refor-
mers against linguistic and bookish training has always
taken the form of demanding recourse to personal ex-
perience. However advanced the person is in knowledge
and in scientific training, understanding of a new subject,
or a new aspect of an old subject, must always be through
these acts of experiencing directly the existence or
quahty in question.

2. Expository. Given a certain store of meanings
which have been directly or denotatively marked out,
language becomes a resource by which imaginative
combinations and variations may be built up. A color
may be defined to one who has not experienced it
as lying between green and blue ; a tiger may be defined
{i.e. the idea of it made more definite) by selecting some
qualities from known members of the cat tribe and com-
bining them with qualities of size and weight derived
from other objects. Illustrations are of the nature of
expository definitions ; so are the accounts of meanings
given in a dictionary. By taking better-known meanings
and associating them, — the attained store of meanings
of the community in which one resides is put at one's
disposal. But in themselves these definitions are second-
hand and conventional; there is danger that instead of
inciting one to effort after personal experiences that

MEANING 133/

will e'^emplify and verify them, they will be accepted on
authority as substitutes.

3. Scientific. Even popular definitions serve a^ rules andbydis-
for identifying and classifying individuals, but the pur- ^ethod^of
pose of such identifications and classifications is mainly production
practical and social, not intellectual. Tq conceive the
whale as a fish does not interfere T'ith the success
of whalers, nor does it prevent recogi.icion of a whale
when seen, while to conceive it not as >fish but as
mammal serves the practical end equally w^, and also
furnishes a much more valuable principle for scientific
identification and classification. Popular definitions se-
lect certain fairly obvious traits as keys to classification.
Scientific definitions select conditions of causation, pro-
duction, and generation as their characteristic material.
The traits used by the popular definition do not help
us to understand why an object has its common mean-
ings and quahties ; they simply state the fact that it
does have them. Causal and genetic definitions fix
upon the way an object is constructed , as the key to
its being a certain kind of object, and thereby explain
why it has its class or common traits.

If, for example, a layman of considerable practical Contrast of
experience were asked what he meant or understood by descriptive
metal, he would probably reply in terms of the qualities definitions
useful (i) in recognizing any given metal and («V) in the
arts. * Smoothness, hardness, glossiness, and brilliancy,
heavy weight for its size, would probably be included
in his definition, because such traits enable us to identify
specific things when we see and touch them ; the ser-
viceable properties of capacity for being hammered and
pulled without breaking, of being softened by heat an4
hardened by cold, of retaining the shape and form

134 HOW WE THINK

given, of resistance to pressure and decay, would prob-
ably be included — whether or not such terms as mal-
leable or fusible were used. Now a scientific concep-
tion, instead of using, even with additions, traits of this
kind, determines meaning on a different basis. The
present definition of metal is about like this : Metal
means any chemical element that enters into combina-
tion with oxygen so as to form a base, i.e. a compound
that combSies with an acid to form a salt. This sci-
entific dctnition is founded, not on directly perceived
qualities nor on directly useful properties, but on the
way in which certain things are causally related to other
things ; i.e. it denotes a relation. As chemical concepts
become more and more those of relationships of inter-
action in constituting other substances, so physical con-
cepts express more and more relations of operation:
mathematical, as expressing functions of dependence
and order of grouping ; biological, relations of differ-
entiation of descent, effected through adjustment of
various environments ; and so on through the sphere of
the sciences. In short, our conceptions attain a maxi-
mum of definite individuality and of generaUty (or appli-
icability) in the degree to which they show how things
depend upon one another or influence one another, in-
stead of expressing the qualities that objects possess
statically. The ideal of a system of scientific concep-
tions is to attain continuity, freedom, and flexibility of
transition in passing from any fact and meaning to any
other ; this demand is met in the degree in which we
lay hold of the dynamic ties that hold things together
in a continuously changing process — a principle that
states insight into mode of production or growth.

CHAPTER TEN
CONCRETE AND ABSTRACT THINKING

The maxim enjoined upon teachers, " to proceed from False

the concrete to. the abstract," is perhaps famihar rather °°ti°°f °*
* ^ ^ concrete

than comprehended, Few who read and hear it gain a and abstract
clear conception of the starting-point, the concrete ;• of
the nature of the goal, the abstract ; and of the exact
nature of the path to be traversed in going from one to
the other. At times the injunction is positively misun-
derstood, being taken to mean that education should
advance from things to thought — as if any dealing
with things in which thinking is not involved could
possibly be educative. So understood, the maxim en-
courages mechanical routine or sensuous excitation
at i)ne end of the educational scale — the lower —
and academic and unapplied learning at the upper
end.

Nominally, all dealing with things, even the child's,
is immersed in inferences; things are clothed by the
suggestions they arouse, and are significant as chal-
lenges to interpretation or as evidences to substantiate
a beUe^. Nothing could be more unnatural than in-
struction in things without thought; in sense-percep-
tions .without judgments based upon them. And if the
abstract to which we are to proceed denotes thought
apart from things, the goal recommended is formal and
I3S

136

HOW WE THINK

empty, for effective thought always refers, more or less
directly, to things.

Yet the maxim has a meaning which, understood and
supplemented, states the line of development of logical
capacity. What is this signification .' Concrete denotes
a meaning definitely marked off from other meanings so
that it is readily apprehended by itself. When we hear
the words, table, chair, stove, coat, we do not have to
reflect in order to grasp what is meant. The terms
convey meaning so directly that no effort at translating
is needed. The meanings of some terms and things,
however, are grasped only by first calling to mind more
familiar things and then tracing out connections be-
tween them and what we do not understand. Roughly
speaking, the former kind of meanings is concrete ; the
latter abstract.

To one who is thoroughly at home in physics and
chemistry, the notions of atom and molecule are fairly
concrete. They are constantly used without involving
any labor of thought in apprehending what they mean.
But the layman and the beginner in science have first to
remind themselves of things with which they already
are well acquainted, and go through a process of slow
translation ; the terms atom and molecule losing, more-
over, their hard-won meaning only too easily if familiar
things, and the line of transition from them to the
strange, drop out of mind. The same difference is
illustrated by any technical terms : coefficient and exponent
in algebra, triangle and square in their geometric as
distinct from their popular meanings ; capital and value
as used in political economy, and so on.

The difference as noted is purely relative to the
intellectual progress of an individual ; what is abstract

CONCRETE AND ABSTRACT THINKING

137

at one period of growth is concrete at another ; or even
the contrary, as one finds that things supposed to be
thoroughly familiar involve strange factors and unsolved
problems. There is, nevertheless, a general line of
cleavage which, deciding upon the whole what things
fall within the Umits of familiar acquaintance and what
without, marks off the concrete and the abstract in a
more permanent way. These limits are fixed mainly by
the demands of practical life. Things such as sticks
and stones, meat and potatoes, houses and trees, are
such constant features of the environment of which we
have to take account in order to live, that their im-
portant meanings are soon learnt, and indissolubly
associated with objects. We are acquainted with a
thing (or it is familiar to us) when we have so much to
do with it that its strange and unexpected corners are
rubbed off. The necessities of social intercourse con-
vey to adults a like concreteness upon such terms as
taxes, elections, wages, the law, and so on. Things the
meaning of which I personally do not take in directly,
appUances of cook, carpenter, or weaver, for example,
are nevertheless' unhesitatingly classed as concrete,
since they are so directly connected with our common
social life.

By contrast, the abstract is the theoretical, or that Thetheo-

not intimately associated with practical concerns. The '■?*?*^,^' ?'
■' '^ . . strictly m-

abstract thinker (the man of pure science as he is some- teiiectuai,
times called) deliberately abstracts from appUcation in *s abstract
life; that is, he leaves practical uses out of account.
This, however, is a merely negative statement. What
remains when connections with use and application are
excluded .' Evidently only what has to do with knowing
considered as an end in itself. Many notions of science

138

HOW WE THINK

are abstract, not only because they cannot be understood
without a long apprenticeship in the science (which is
equally true of technical matters in the arts), but also
because the whole content of their meaning has been
framed for the sole purpose of facilitating further knowl-
edge, inquiry, and speculation. When thinking is used
as a means to some end, good, or value beyond itself, it is
concrete ; when it is employed simply as a means to
m.ore thinking, it is abstract. To a theorist an idea is
adequate and self-contained just because it engages and
rewards thought ; to a medical practitioner, an engineer,
an artist, a merchant, a politician, it is complete only
when employed in the furthering of some interest in
life — health, wealth, beauty, goodness, success, or what
you will.

For the great majority of men under ordinary cir-
cumstances, the practical exigencies of life are almost,
if not quite, coercive. Their main business is the
proper conduct of their affairs. Whatever is of signifi-
cance only as affording scope for thinking is pallid and
remote — almost artificial. Hence the contempt felt by
the practical and successful executive for the " mere
theorist " ; hence his conviction that certain things may
be all very well in theory, but that they will not do in
practice ; in general, the depreciatory way in which he
uses the terms abstract, theoretical, and intellectual —
as distinct from intelligent.

This attitude is justified, of course, under certain con-
ditions. But depreciation of theory does not contain
the whole truth, as common or practical sense recog-
nizes. There is such a thing, even from the common-
sense standpoint, as being " too practical," as being so
intent upon the immediately practical as not to seC'

CONCRETE AND ABSTRACT THINKING 139

beyond the end of one's nose or as to cut off the limb
upon which one is sitting. The question is one of
limits, of degrees and adjustments, rather t^an one of
absolute separation. Truly practical men give their
minds free play about a subject without asking too
closely at every point for the advantage to be gained ;
exclusive preoccupation with matters of use and appli-
cation so narrows the horizon as in the long run to de-
feat itself. It does not pay to tether one's thoughts to
the post of use with too short a rope. Power in action
requires some largeness and imaginativeness of vision.
Men must at least have enough interest in thinking for
the sake of thinking to escape the limits of routine and
custom. Interest in knowledge for the sake of knowl-
edge, in thinking for the sake of the free play of thought,
is necessary then to the emancipation of practical life —
to make it rich and progressive.

We may now recur to the pedagogic maxim of going
from the concrete to the abstract.

I. Since the concrete denotes thinking applied to
activities for the sake of dealing effectively with the
difficulties that present themselves practically, " begin-
ning with the concrete " signifies that we should at the
outset make much of doing ; especially, make much in
occupations that are not of a routine and mechanical
kind and hence require intelligent selection and adapta-
tion of means and materials. We do not " follow tha
order of nature " when we multiply mere sensations or
accumulate physical objects. Instruction in number is
not concrete merely because splints pr beans or dots are
employed, while whenever the use and bearing of number
relations are clearly perceived, the number idea is con-
crete even if figures alone are used. Just what sort of

140 HOW WE THINK

symbol it is best to use at a given time — whether blocks,
or lines, or figures — is entirely a matter of adjustment
to the given case. If physical things used in teaching
number or geography or anything else do not leave the
mind illuminated with recognition of a meaning beyond
themselves, the instruction that uses them is as abstract
as that which doles out ready-made definitions and rules ;'
for it distracts attention from ideas to mere physical
excitations.

The conception that we have only to put before the
senses particular physical objects in order to impress
the sensibly certain ideas upon the mind amounts almost to a super-
iso ate stition. The introduction of object lessons and sense-

training scored a distinct advance over the prior method
of linguistic symbols, and this advance tended to blind
educators to the fact that only a halfway step had been
taken. Things and sensations develop the child, indeed, 1
but only because he uses them in mastering his body and 1
in the scheme of his activities. Appropriate contin-
uous occupations or activities involve the use of natural
materials, tools, modes of energy, and do it in a way ,
that compels thinking as to what they mean, how they
are related to one another and to the realization of ends ;
while the mere isolated presentation of things remains
barren and dead. A few generations ago the great ob-
stacle in the way of reform of primary education was
belief in the almost magical efficacy of the symbols of lan-
guage (including number) to produce mental training ;
at present, beUef in the efficacy of objects just as objects,
blocks the way. As frequently happens, the better is
an enemy of the best.
Transfer of 2. The interest in results, in the successful carrying on
interest to ^^ ^^ activity, should be gradually transferred to study

CONCRETE AND ABSTRACT THINKING 141

of objects — their properties, consequences, structures, intellectual
causes, and effects. The adult when at work in his life ™^"^"
calling is rarely free to devote time or energy — beyond
the necessities of his immediate action — to the study of
what he deals with. {Ante, p. 43.) The educative activ-
ities of childhood should be so arranged that direct
interest in the activity and its outcome create a demand
for attention to matters that have a more and more in-
direct and remote connection with the original activity.
The direct interest in carpentering or shop work should,
yield organically and gradually an interest in geometric-
and mechanical problems. The interest in cooking
should grow into an interest in chemical experimentation-
and in the physiology and hygiene of bodily growth.,
The making of pictures should pass to an interest in the
technique of representation and the aesthetics of appreci-
ation, and so on. This development is what the term
go signifies in the maxim "go from the concrete to the
abstract " ; it represents the dynamic and truly educative
factor of the process.

3. The outcome, the abstract to which education is to Develop-
proceed, is an interest in intellectual matters for their ^*fgi,f j^
own sake, a delight in thinking for the sake of thinking, the activity
It is an old story that acts and processes which at the °* ^"'•''"g
outset are incidental to something else develop and
maintain an absorbing^value of their own. So it is with
thinking and with knowledge; at first incidental' to re-
sults and adjustments beyond themselves, they attract
more and more attention to themselves till they become
ends, not means. Children engage, unconstrainedly
and continually, in reflective inspection and testing for
the sake of what they are interested in doing successfully.
Habits of thinking thus generated may increase in volume

142

HOW WE THINK

and extent till they become of importance on their own
account.

The three instances cited in Chapter Six represented
an ascending cycle from the practical to the theoretical.
Taking thought to keep a personal engagement is ob-
viously of the concrete kind. Endeavoring to work out
the meaning of a certain part of a boat is an instance of
an intermediate kind. The reason for the existence and
position of the pole is a practical reason, so that to the
architect the problem was purely concrete — the main-
tenance of a certain system of action. But for the pas-
senger on the boat, the problem was theoretical, more
or less speculative. It made no difference to his reach-
ing his destination whether he worked out the meaning
of the pole. The third case, that of the appearance and
movement of the bubbles, illustrates a strictly theoreti-
cal or abstract case. No overcoming of physical ob-
stacles, no adjustment of external means to ends, is at
stake. Curiosity, intellectual curiosity, is challenged by
a seemingly anomalous occurrence ; and thinking tries
simply to account for an apparent exception in terms of
recognized principles.

{{) Abstract thinking, it should be noted, represents
an end, not the end. The power of sustained thinking
on matters remote from direct use is an outgrowth of
practical and immediate modes of thought, but not a
substitute for them. The educational end is not the de-
struction of power to think so as to surmount obstacles
and adjust means and ends ; it is not its replacement by
abstract reflection. Nor is theoretical thinking a higher
type of thinking than practical. A person who has at
command both types of thinking is of a higher order
than he who possesses only one. Methods that in de-

CONCRETE AND ABSTRACT THINKING 143

veloping abstract intellectual abilities weaken habits of
practical or concrete thinking, fall as much short of the
educational ideal as do the methods that in cultivating
ability to plan, to invent, to arrange, to forecast, fail to
secure some delight in thinking irrespective of practical
consequences'.

(m') Educators should also note the very great indi- Hor that '
vidual differences that exist ; they should not try to force ^^Ii^^ jhe
one pattern and model upon all. In many (probably majority
the majority) the executive tendency, the habit of mind °* ^^^'^
that thinks for purposes of conduct and achievement,
not for the sake of knowing, remains dominant to the
end. Engineers, lawyers, doctors, merchants, are much
more numerous in adult hfe than scholars, scientists,
and philosophers. While education_^ should strive to
make men who, however prominent their professional
interests and aims, partake of the spirit of the scholar,
philosopher, and scientist, no good reason appears why
education should esteem the one mental habit inhe-
rently superior to the other, and deliberately try to
transform the type from practical to theoretical. Have
not our schools (as already suggested, p. 49) been one-
sidedly devoted to the more abstract type of thinking, ^
thus doing injustice to the majority of pupils ? Has not
the idea of a " liberal " and " humane " education tended
too often in practice to the production of technical, be-
cause overspecialized, thinkers ?

The aim of education should be to secure a balanced ; (Aim of
interaction of the two types of mental attitude, having! i^^^^^^T**
sufficient regard tqj^disposition of the individual not; balance
to hamper and cripple whatever powers are naturally!
strong in him. The narrowness of individuals of strong \
concrete bent needs t^ be liberalized. Every oppor-

144 HOW WE THINK

tunity that occurs within their practical activities for
developing curiosity and susceptibility to intellectual
problems should be seized. Violence is not done to
natural disposition, but the latter is broadened. As re-
gards the smaller number of those who have a taste
for abstract, purely intellectual topics, pains should be
taken to multiply opportunities and demands for the
application of ideas ; for translating symbolic truths into
terms of social life and its ends. Every human being
has both capabilities, and every individual will be more
effective and happier if both powers are developed in
easy and close interaction with each other.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
EMPIRICAL AND SCIENTIFIC THINKING

§ I. Empirical Thinking

Apart from the development of scientific method, Empirical
inferences depend upon habits that have been built up ^^i^^^'^e

■^ J^ J^ depends on

under the influence of a number of particular experi- past habits
ences not themselves arranged for logical purposes.
A says, "It will probably rain to-morrow." B asks,
" Why do you think so .>' " and A replies, " Because the
sky was lowering at sunset." When B asks, " What has
that to do with it .-' " A responds, " I do not know, but
it generally does rain after such a sunset." He does not
perceive-an y connec t ion between the a ppearance of the
sky and coming rainj he is not aware of any continuity
in the facts themselves — any law or principle, as we
usually say. He simply, from frequently recurring con-
junctions of the events, has associated theBa=:SQ_±h^
when he sees one he thinks of the other. One suggests
the other, or is associated with it. A man may believe
it will rain to-morrow because he has consulted the ba-
rometer ; but if he has no conception how the height of
the mercury column (or the position of an index moved
by its rise and fall) is connected with variations of at-
mospheric pressure, and how these in turn are connected
with the amount of moisture in the air, his belief in the
likelihood of rain is purely empirical. When men lived
in the open and got their living by hunting, fishing, or
'45

146 HOW WE THINK

pasturing flocks, the detection of the signs and indica-
tions of weather changes was a matter of great impor-
tance. A body of proverbs and maxims, forming an
extensive section of traditionary folklore, was developed.
But as long as there was no understanding why or how
certain events were signs, as long as foresight and
weather shrewdness rested simply upon repeated con-
junction among facts, beliefs about the weather were
thoroughly empirical.

In similar fashion learned men in the Orient learned
to predict, _ with considerable accuracy, the recurrent
positions of the planets, the sun and the moon, and to
foretell the time of eclipses, without understanding in
any degree the laws of the movements of heavenly
bodies — that is, without having a notion of the con-
tinuities existing among the facts themselves. They
had learned from repeated observations that things hap-
pened in about such and such a fashion. Till a compara-
tively recent time, the truths of medicine were mainly in
the same condition. Experience had shown that " upon
the whole," "as a rule," "generally or usually speak-
ing," certain results followed certain remedies, when
symptoms were given. Our beliefs about human na-
ture in individuals (psychology) and in masses (sociol-
ogy) are still very largely of a purely empirical sort.
Even the science of geometry, now frequently reckoned
a typical rational science, began, among the Egyptians,
as an accumulation of recorded observations about
methods of approximate mensuration of land surfaces;
and only gradually assumed, among the Greeks, scien-
tific form.

The disadvantages of purely empirical thinking are
obvious.

EMPIRICAL AND SCIENTIFIC THINKING 147

1. While many empirical conclusions are, roughly but is very
speaking, correct ; while they are exact enough to be of f^se'beUefs
great help" in practical life; while the presages of a
weatherwise sailor or_lyanteLJ5a^bs_more accurate,

within a certain restricted range, than those of a scien-
tist who relies wholly upon scientific observations and
tests ; while, indeed, empirical observations and records
furnish the raw or crude material of scientific knowl-
edge, yet the empirical method affords no wa y of
discrim inating between rig ht and wrong conclusions.,
Hence it is responsible for a multitude of false beheis. 1
The technical designation for one of the commonest}
fallacies is post hoc, ergo propter hoc ; the belief that Ije-
cause one thing comes after another, it comes because
of the other. Now this fallacy of method is the animat-
ing principle of empirical conclusions, even when correct
— the correctness being almost as much a matter of
good luck as of method. That potatoes should 'be
planted only during the crescent moon, Ihat near the sea
people are born at high tide and die at low tide, that a
comet is an omen of danger, that bad luck follows the
cracking of a mirror, that a patent medicine cures a
disease — these and a thousand like notions are as-
severated on the basis of empirical coincidence and
conjunction. Moreover, habits of expectation and be-
lief are formed otherwise than by a number of repeated
similar cases.

2. The more numerous the experienced instances and and does
the closer the watch kept upon them, the greater is "fj^'^.^pg
the trustworthiness of constant conjunction as evidence with the
of connection among the things themselves. Many'of °°''^V
our most important beliefs still have only this sort of
warrant. No one can yet tell, with certainty, the neces-

148 HOW WE THINK

sary cause of old age or of death — which are empirically
the most certain of all expectations. But even the most
reliable beliefs of this type fail when they confront the
novel. Since they rest upon past uniformities, they are
useless when further experience departs in any consider-
able measure from ancient incident and wonted prece-
dent. Empirical inference follows the grooves and ruts
that custom wears, and has no track to follow when the
groove disappears. So important is this aspect of the
matter that Clifford found the difference between ordi-
jnary skill and scientific thought right here. "Skill
(enables a man to deal with the same circumstances that
he has met before, scientific thought enables him to deal
with different circumstances that he has never met
before." And he goes so far as to define scientific
thinking as " the appUcation of old experience to new
circumstances."
and leads to 3- We have not yet made the acquaintance of the most

laziness and harmful feature of the empirical method. Mental in-
presumption, '■

iertia, laziness, unjustifiable conservatism, are its probable

accompaniments. Its general effect upon mental attitude
is more serious than even the specific wrong conclusions
in which it has landed. Wherever the chief dependence
in forming inferences is upon the conjunctions observe^
in past experience, failures to agree with the usual order
are slurred over, cases of successful confirmation are
exaggerated. Since the mind naturally demands some
principle of continuity, some connecting link between
separate facts and causes, forces are arbitrarily invented
for that purpose. Fantastic and mythological explana-
tions are resorted to in order to supply missing links.
The pump brings water because nature abhors a
vacuum ; opium makes men sleep because it has a dormi-

EMPIRICAL AND SCIENTIFIC THINKING

tive potency ; we recollect a past event because we have
a faculty of memory. In the history of the progress of
human knowledge, out and out myths accompany the
first stage of empiricism ; while " hidden essences " and
" occult forces " mark its second stage. By their very
nature, these " causes " escape observation, so that their
explanatory value can be neither confirmed nor refuted
by further observation or experience. Hence belief in*
them becomes purely traditionary. They give rise to
doctrines which, inculcated and handed down, become
^gmas ; subsequent inquiry and reflection are act^ially
JtiRed. (Ante, p. 23.)

Certain men or classes of men come to be the accepted and to
guardians and transmitters — instructors — of established °^™f '^^
doctrines. To question the beliefs is to question their .^---''^
authority ; to accept the beliefs is evidence of loyalty to
the powers that be, a proof of good citizenship. Pas- '
sivity, docility, acquiescence, come to be primal intellec-
tual virtues. Facts and events presenting novelty and
variety are slighted, or are sheared down fill they fit
into the Procrustean bed of habitual belief. Inquiry
and doubt are silenced by citation of ancient laws or a
multitude of miscellaneous and unsifted cases. This
attitude of mind generates dishke of change, and the
resulting aversion to novelty is fatal to progress. What
will not fit into the established canons is outljiwed ; men
who make new discoveries are objects of suspicion and
even of persecution. Beliefs that perhaps originally
were the products of fairly extensive and careful obser-!
vation are stereotyped into fixed traditions and semi-
sacred dogmas accepted simply upon authority, and
are mixed with fantastic conceptions that happen to
have won the acceptance of authorities.

ISO

HOW WE THINK

§ 2. Scientific Method

In contrast with the empirical method stands the
scientific. Scientific method replaces the repeated con-
junction or coincidence of separate facts by discovery of
a single comprehensive fact, effecting this replacement
by breaking up the coarse or gross facts of observation into
a number of minuter processes not directly accessible to
perception.

If a layman were asked why water rises from the
cistern when an ordinary pump is worked, he would
doubtless answer, " By suction." Suction is regarded
as a force like heat or pressure. If such a person is
confronted by the fact that water rises with a suction
pump only about thirty-three feet, he easily disposes of
the difficulty on the ground that all forces vary in their
intensities and finally reach a limit at which they cease
to operate. The variation with elevation above the
sea level of the height to which water can be pumped
is either unnoticed, or, if noted, is dismissed as one of
the curious anomalies in which nature abounds.

Now the scientist advances by assuming that what
seems to observation to be a single total fact is in truth
complex. He attempts, therefore, to break up the
single fact of water-rising-in-the-pipe into a number of
lesser facts. His method of proceeding is by varying
conditions one by one so far as possible, and noting just
what happens when a given condition is eliminated.
There are two methods for varying conditions.^ The
first is an extension of the empirical method of observa-
tion. It consists in comparing very carefully the results
of a great number of observations which have occurred

1 The next two paragraphs repeat, for purposes of the present discussion,
what we have already noted in a different context. See p. 88 and p. 99.

EMPIRICAL AND SCIENTIFIC THINKING 151

under accidentally different conditions. The difference
in the rise of the water at different heights above the
sea level, and its total cessation when the distance to be
lifted is, even at sea level, more than thirty-three feet,
are emphasized, instead of being slurred over. The
purpose is to find out what special conditions are present
when the effect occurs and absent when it fails to
occur. These special conditions are then substituted
for the gross fact, or regarded as its principle — the
key to understanding it.

The method of analysis by comparing cases is, how-
ever, badly handicapped ; it can do nothing until it is
presented with a certain number of diversified cases.
And even when different cases are at hand, it will be
questionable whether they vary in just these respects in
which it is important that they should vary in order to
throw light upon the question at issue. The method is
passive and dependent upon external accidents. Hence
the superiority of the active or experimental method.
Even a small number of observations may suggest an
explanation — a hypothesis or theory. Working upon
this suggestion, the scientist may then intentionally
vary conditions and note what happens. If the empir-
ical observations have suggested to him the possibility
of a connection between air pressure on the water and
the rising of the water in the tube where air pressure is
absent, he deliberately empties the air out of the vessel
in which the water is contained and notes that suction
no longer works ; or he intentionally increases atmos-
pheric pressure on the water and notes the result. He
institutes experiments to calculate the weight of air at
the sea level and at various levels above, and compares
the results of reasoning based upon the pressure of air

IS2

HOW WE THINK

of these various weights upon a certain volume of water
with the results actually obtained by observation. Ob-
servations formed by variation of conditions on the basis
of some idea or theory constitute experiment. Experiment
is the chief resource in scientific reasoning because it
facilitates the picking out of significant elements in a
gross, vague whole.

Experimental thinking, or scientific reasoning, is thus
a conjoint process of analysis and synthesis, or, in less
technical language, of discrimination and assimilation
or identification. The gross fact of water rising when
the suction valve is worked is resolved or discriminated
into a number of independent variables, some of which
had never before been observed or even thought of in
connection with the fact. One of these facts, the
weight of the atmosphere, is then selectively seized upon
as the key to the entire phenomenon. This disentan-
gling constitutes analysis. But atmosphere and its pres-
sure or weight is a fact not confined to this single
instance. It is a fact familiar or at least discoverable
as operative in a great number of other events. In fixing
upon this imperceptible and minute fact as the essence
or key to the elevation of water by the pump, the pump-
fact has thus been assimilated to a whole group of ordi-
nary facts from which it was previously isolated. This
assimilation constitutes synthesis. Moreover, the fact
of atmospheric pressure is itself a case of one of the
commonest of all facts — weight or gravitational force.
Conclusions that apply to the common fact of weight
are thus transferable to the consideration and inter-
pretation of the relatively rare and exceptional case of
the suction of water. The suction pump is seen to be
a case of the same kind or sort as the siphon, the

EMPIRICAL AND SCIENTIFIC THINKING 153

barometer, the rising of the balloon, and a multitude of
other things with which at first sight it has no connec-
tion at all. This is another instance of the synthetic or
assimilative phase of scientific thinking.

If we revert to the advantages of scientific over em-
pirical thinking, we find that we now have the clue to
them.

(a) The increased security, the added factor of cer- lessened
taintv or proof, is due to the substitution of the detailed "^'''I'ty
and specific fact of atmospheric pressure for the gross
and total and relatively miscellaneous fact of suction.
The latter is complex, and its complexity is due to many
unknown and unspecified factors ; hence, any state-
ment about it is more or less random, and likely to be
defeated by any unforeseen variation of circumstances.
Comparatively, at least, the minute and detailed fact of
air pressure is a measurable and definite fact — one
that can be picked out and managed with assurance.

ip) As analysis accounts for the added certainty, so Ability to
synthesis accounts for abihty to cope with the novel ™^*se
and variable. Weight is a much commoner fact than
atmospheric weight, and this in turn is a much com-
moner fact than the workings of the suction pump.
To be able to substitute the common and frequent fact
for that which is relatively rare and peculiar is to reduce
the seemingly novel and exceptional to cases of a gen-
eral and famihar principle, and thus to bring them
under control for interpretation and prediction.

As Professor James says : " Think of heat as motion
and whatever is true of motion will be true of heat ; but
we have a hundred experiences of motion for eypry one
of heat. Think of rays passing through this leps as
cases of bending toward the perpendicular, and you

154

HOW WE THINK

substitute for the comparatively unfamiliar lens the very
familiar notion of a particular change in direction of a
line, of which notion every day brings us countless
examples." ^

(c) The change of attitude from conservative reliance
upon the past, upon routine and custom, to faith in prog-
ress through the intelUgent regulation of existing condi-
tions, is, of course, the reflex of the scientific method of
experimentation. The empirical method inevitably mag-
nifies the influences of the past ; the experimental method
throws into relief the possibilities of the future. The
empirical method says, " Wait till there is a sufficient
number of cases ; " the experimental method says, "Pro-
duce the cases."! The former depends upon nature's
, accidentally happening to present us with certain con-
junctions of circumstances ; the latter deliberately and
intentionally endeavors to bjing about the conjunctien.
By this method the notion of progress secures scientific
warrant.

Ordinary experience is controlled largely by the direct
strength and intensity of various occurrences. What is
bright, sudden, loud, secures notice and is given a con-
spicuous rating. What is dim, feeble, and continuous
gets ignored, or is regarded as of slight importance.
Customary experience tends to the control of thinking
by considerations of direct and immediate strength rather
than by those of importance in the long run. Animals
without the power of forecast and planning must, upon
the whole, respond to the stimuli that are most urgent
at the moment, or cease to exist. These stimuli lose
nothing of their direct urgency and clamorous insistency
when the thinking power develops ; and yet thinking
1 Psychology, vol. II. p. 342.

EMPIRICAL AND SCIENTIFIC THINKING 155

demands the subordination of the immediate stimulus to
the remote and distant. The feeble and the minute may
be of much greater importance than the glaring and the
big. The latter may be signs of a force that is already
exhausting itself; the former may indicate the begin-
nings of a process in which the whole fortune of the
individual is involved. The prime necessity for scien-
tific thought is that the thinker be freed from the tyr-
anny of sense stimuli and habit, and this emancipation
is also the necessary condition of progress.

Consider the following quotation : " When it first oc-
curred to a reflecting mind that moving water had a
property identical with human or brute force, namely,
the property of setting other masses in motion, over-
coming inertia and resistance, — when the sight of the
stream suggested through this point of likeness the
power M)f the animal, — a new addition was made to
the class of prime movers, and when circumstances per-
mitted, this power could become a substitute for the
others. It may seem to the modern understanding,
famihar with water wheels and drifting rafts, that the
similarity here was an extremely obvious one. But if
we put ourselves back into an early state of mind, when
running water affected the mind by its brilliancy, its roar
and irrfgular-jtevustati&n, we may easily suppose that
to identify this with animal muscular energy was by no
means an obvious effort." ^

If we add to these obvious sensory features the vari-
ous social customs and expectations which fix the atti-
tude of the individual, the evil of the subjection of free
and fertile suggestion to empirical considerations be-

1 Bain, The Senses and Intellect, third American ed., 1879, p. 492 (italics
not in original) .

156 HOW WE THINK

comes clear. A certain power of abstraction, of de-
liberate turning away from the habitual responses to a
situation, was required before men could be emancipated
to follow up suggestions that in the end are fruitful.

In short, the term experience may be interpreted either
with reference to the empirical or the experimental atti-
tude of mind. Experience is not a rigid and closed
thing ; it is vital, and hence growing. When dominated
by the past, by custom and routine, it is often opposed
to the reasonable, the thoughtful. But experience also
includes the reflection that sets us free from the limiting
influence of sense, appetite, and tradition. Experience
may welcome and assimilate all that the most exact and
penetrating thought discovers. Indeed, the business of
education might be defined as just such an emancipation
and enlargement of experience. Education takes the
individual while he is relatively plastic, before he has
become so indurated by isolated experiences as to be \
rendered hopelessly empirical in his habit of mind. The
attitude of childhood is naive, wondering, experimental ;
the world of man and nature is new. Right methods of
education preserve and perfect this attitude, and thereby
short-circuit for the individual the slow progress of the
race, eliminating the waste that comes from inert routine.

]^ \y ^/^

PART THREE: THE TRAINING OF
THOUGHT

CHAPTER TWELVE

ACTIVITY AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT

In this chapter we shall gather together and amplify
considerations that have already been advanced, in vari-
ous passages of the preceding pages, concerning the re-
lation of action to thought. We shall follow, though not
with exactness, the order of development in the unfold-
ing human being.

§ I. The Early Stage of Activity

The sight of a baby often calls out the question : i. The
" What do you suppose he is thinking about ? " By the ^^'1^1°^
nature of the case, the question is unanswerable in de- mines his
tail ; but, also by the nature of the case, we may be sure * "'''^8
about a baby's chief interest. His primary problem is
mastery of his body as a tool of securing comfortable and
effective adjustments to his surroundings, physical and
sociai. The child has to learn to do almost everything :
to see, to hear, to reach, to handle, to balance the body,
to creep, to walk, and so on. Even if it be true that
human beings have even more instinctive reactions than
lower animals, it is also true that instinctive tendencies
are much less perfect in mpn. and that most of them are

IS7

IS8 HOW WE THINK

of little use till they are intelligently combined and di-
rected. A little chick just out of the shell will after a
f 0^ trials peck at and grasp grains of food with its beak
as weii as aL any later time. This involves a complicated
coordination of the eye and the head. An infant does
not even begin to reach definitely for things that the
eye sees till he is several months old, and even then
several weeks' practice is required before he learns
the adjustment so as neither to overreach nor to under-
reach. It may not be literally true that the child will
grasp for the moon, but it is true that he needs much
practice beforfe he can tell whether an object is within
reach or not. The arm is thrust out instinctively in re-
sponse to a stimulus from the eye, and this tendency is
the origin of the ability to reach and grasp exactly and
quickly; but nevertheless final mastery requires ob-
serving and selecting the successful movements, and
arranging them in view of an end. These operations of
conscious selection and arrangement constitute thinking,
though of a rudimentary type.

[ Since mastery of the bodily organs is necessary for
all later developments, such problems are both interest-
ing and important, and solving them suppUes a very
genuine training of thinking power. The joy the child
shows in learning to use his limbs, to translate what he
sees into what he handles, to connect sounds with sights,
sights with taste and touch, and the rapidity with which
intelligence grows in the first year and a half of life (the
time during which the more fundamental problems of
the use of the organism are mastered), are sufficient evi-
dence that the development of physical control is not a
physical but an intellectual achievement.

Although in the early months the child is mainly oc-

ACTIVITY AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT 159

cupied in learning to use his body to accommodate him-
self to physical conditions in a comfortable way and to
use things skillfully and effectively, yet social adjust-
ments are very important. In connection with parents,
nurse, brother, and sister, the child learns the signs of
satisfaction of hunger, of removal of discomfort, of the
approach of agreeable light, color, sound, and so on.
His contact with physical things is regulated by persons,
and he soon distinguishes persons as the most important
and interesting of all the objects with which he has to do.
Speech, the accurate adaptation of sounds heard to the
movements of tongue and lips, is, however, the great
instrument of social adaptation ; and with the develop-
ment of speech (usually in the second year) adapta-
tion of the baby's activities to and with those of other
persons gives the keynote of mental life. His range
of possible activities is indefinitely widened as he
watches what other persons do, and as he tries to under-
stand and to do what they encourage him to attempt.
The outline pattern of mental life is thus set in the
first four or five years. Years, centuries, generations
of invention and planning, may have gone to the develop-
ment of the performances and occupations of the adults
surrounding the child. Yet for him their activities are
direct stimuli ; they are part of his natural environment ;
they are carried on in physical terms that appeal to his
eye, ear, and touch. He cannot, of course, appropriate
their meaning directly through his senses; but they
furnish stimuli to which he responds, so that his atten-
tion is focussed upon a higher order of materials and of
problems. Were it not for this process by which the
achievements of one generation form the stimuli that
direct the activities of the next, the story of civilization

i6o

HOW WE THINK

would be writ in water, and each generation would have
laboriously to make for itself, if it could, its way out of
savagery.

Imitation is one (though only one, see p. 47) of the
means by which the activities of adults supply stimuli
which are so interesting, so varied, so complex, and so
novel, as to occasion a rapid progress of thought. Mere
imitation, however, would not give rise to thinking ; if
we could learn likfe parrots by simply copying the out-
ward acts of others, we should never have to think ; nor
should we know, after we had mastered the copied act,
what was the meaning of the thing we had done. Ed-
ucators (and psychologists) have often assumed that
acts which reproduce the behavior of others are acquired
merely by imitation. But a child rarely learns by con-
scious imitation ; and to say that his imitation is uncon-
scious is to say that it is not from his standpoint imitation
at all. /The word, the gesture, the act, the occupation
of another, falls in line with some impulse already active
and suggests some satisfactory mode of expression, some
end in which it may find fulfillment. Having this
end of his own, the child then notes other persons,
as he notes natural events, to get further suggestions
as to means of its realization. He selects some of
the means he observes, tries them on, finds them suc-
cessful or unsuccessful, is confirmed or weakened in his
belief in their value, and so continues selecting, arrang-
ing, adapting, testing, till he can accomphsh what he
wishes, i The onlooker may then observe the resem-
blance of this act to some act of an adult, and conclude
that it was acquired by imitation, while as a matter 'of
fact it was acquired by attention, observation, selection,
experimentation, and confirmation by results. Only

ACTIVITY AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT i6l

because this method is employed is there intellectual
discipline and an educative result. The presence of
adult activities plays an enormous r61e in the intellec-
tual growth of the child because they add to the natural
stimuli of the world new stimuli which are more exactly
adapted to the needs of a human being, which are richer,
better organized, more complex in range, permitting
more flexible adaptations, and calling out novel reactions.
But (in utilizing these stimuli the child follows the same
methods that he uses when he is forced to think in order
to master his body.

§ 2. Play, Work, and Allied Forms of Activity

When things become signs, when they gain a repre- piay indi-
sentative capacity as standing for other things, play is ^**^ *^*
transformed from mere physical exuberance into an of activity
activity involving a mental factor. A little girl who ^^l^*^""^^-
had broken her doll was seen to perform with the leg
of the doll all the operations of washing, putting to
bed, and fondling, that she had been accustomed to per-
form with the entire doll. The part stood for the whole ;'
she reacted nof^ the stimulus sensibly present, but to
the meaning suggested by the sense object. So chil-
dren use a stone for a table, leaves for plates, acorns
for cups. So they use their dolls, their trains, their
blocks, their other toys. In manipulating them, they
are living not with the physical things, but in the large
world of meanings, natural and social, evoked by these
things. So when children play horse, play store, play
house or making calls, they are subordinating the phys-
ically present to the ideally signified. In this way, a
world of meanings, a store of concepts (so fundamental
to all intellectual achievement), is defined and built up.

l62 HOW WE THINK

Moreover, not only do meanings thus become familiar
acquaintances, but they are organized, arranged in
groups, made to cohere in connected ways. A play
and a story blend insensibly into each other. The most
fanciful plays of children rarely lose all touch with the
mutual fitness and pertinency of various meanings to
one another ; the " freest " plays observe some principles
of coherence and unification. They have a beginning,
middle, and end. In games, rules of order run through
various minor acts and bind them into a connected
whole. The rhythm, the competition, and co5pera-
tion involved in most plays and games also introduce
organization. There is, then, nothing mysterious or
mystical in the discovery made by Plato and remade by
Froebel that play is the chief, almost the only, mode of
education for the child in the years of later infancy.

Playfulness is a more important consideration than
play. The former is an attitude of mind ; the latter is
a passing outward manifestation of this attitude. When
things are treated simply as vehicles of suggestion,
what is suggested overrides the thing. Hence the
playful attitude is one of freedom. The person is
not bound to the physical traits of things, nor does he
care whether a thing really means (as we say) what he
takes it to represent. When the child plays horse with
a broom and cars with chairs, the fact that the broom
does not really represent a horse, or a chair a locomo-
tive, is of no account. In order, then, that playfulness
may not terminate in arbitrary fancifulness and in build-
ing up an imaginary world alongside the world of
actual things, it is necessary that the play attitude should
gradually pass into a work attitude.

What is work — work not as mere external perform-

ACTIVITY AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT 163

ance, but as attitude of mind? It signifies that the The work
person is not content longer to accept and to act upon j^erested
the meanings that things suggest, but demands congru- in means
ity of meaning with the things themselves. In the ^^^^^
natural course of growth, children come to find irrespon-
sible make-believe plays inadequate. A fiction is too
easy a way out to afford content. There is not enough
stimulus to call forth satisfactory mental response. When
this point is reached, the ideas that things suggest must
be applied to the things with some regard to fitness. A
small cart, resembling a "real" cart, with "real" wheels,
tongue, and body, meets the mental demand better than
merely making believe that anything which comes to
hand is a cart. Occasionally to take part in setting a
"real" table with "real" dishes brings more reward
than forever to make believe a flat stone is a table aad
that leaves are dishes. The interest may still center in
the meanings, the things may be of importance only as
amplifying a certain meaning. So far the attitude is
one of play. But the meaning is now of such a character
that it must find appropriate embodiment in actual
things.

The dictionary does not permit us to call such activities
work. Nevertheless, they represent a genuine passage
of play into work. For work (as a mental attitude, not
as mere external performance) means interest in the ade-
quate embodiment of a meaning (a suggestion, purpose,
aim) in objective form through the use of appropriate ma-
terials and appliances. Such an attitude takes advantage
of the meanings aroused and built up in free play, but
controls their developm,ent by seeing to it that they are ap-
plied to things in ways consistent with the observable
structure of the things themselves.

1 64

HOW WE THINK

The point of this distinction between play and work
may be cleared up by comparing it with a more usual way
of stating the difference. In play activity, it is said, the
interest is in the activity for its own sake ; in work, it is
in the product or result in which the activity terminates.
Hence the former is purely free, while the latter is tied
down by the end to be achieved. When the difference
is stated in this sharp fashion, there is almost always
introduced a false, unnatural separation between process
and product, between activity and its achieved outcome.
The true distinction is not between an interest in activity
for its own sake and interest in the external result of that
activity, but between an interest in an activity just as it
flows on from moment to moment, and an interest in an
activity as tending to a culmination, to an outcome, and
therefore possessing a thread of continuity binding to-
gether its successive stages. Both may equally exem-
plify interest in an activity " for its own sake " ; but in
one case the activity in which the interest resides is more
or less casual, following the accident of circumstance and
whim, or of dictation ; in the other, the actiyity is enriched
by the sense that it leads somewhere, that it amounts to
something.

Were it not that the false theory of the relation of the
play and the work attitudes has been connected with
unfortunate modes of school practice, insistence upon a
truer view might seem an unnecessary refinement. But
the sharp break that unfortunately prevails between
the kindergarten and the_ grades is evidence that
the theoretical distinction has practical implications.
Under the title of play, the former is rendered unduly
symbolic, fanciful, sentimental, and arbitrary ; while
under the antithetical caption of work the latter con*

ACTIVITY AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT 165

tains many tasks externally assigned. The former has
no end and the latter an end so remote that only the
educator, not the child, is aware that it is an end.

There comes a time when children must extend and
make more exact their acquaintance with existing things ;
must conceive ends and consequences with sufficient
definiteness to guide their actions by them, and must
acquire some technical skill in selecting and arranging
means to realize these ends. Unless these factojs are
gradually introduced in the earlier play period, they
must be introduced later abruptly and arbitrarily, to the
manifest disadvantage of both the earlier and the l^ter
stages.

The sharp opposition of play and work is usually False
associated with false notions of utility and imagination.
Activity that is directed upon matters of home and
neighborhood interest is depreciated^ as merely utilita-
rian. To let the child wash dishes, set the table, engage
in cooking, cut and sew dolls' clothes, make boxes
that will hold " real things," and construct his own
playthings by using hammer and nails, excludes, so
it is said, the aesthetic and appreciative factor, elim-
inates imagination, and subjects the child's development
to material and practical concerns ; while (so it is said)
to reproduce symbolically the domestic relationships of
birds and other animals, of human father and mother
and child, of workman and tradesman, of knight, soldier,
and magistrate, secures a liberal exercise of mind, of
great moral as well as intellectual value. It has been
even stated that it is over-physical and utilitarian if a
child plants seeds and takes care of growing plants in
the kindergarten ; while reproducing dramatically oper-
ations of planting, cultivating, reaping, and so on, either

1 66

HOW WE THINK

with no physical materials or with symbolic represent-
atives, is highly educative to the imagination and to
spiritual appreciation. Toy dolls, trains of cars, boats, and
engines are rigidly excluded, and the employ of cubes,
balls, and other symbols for representing these social
activities is recommended on the same ground. The
more unfitted the physical object for its imagined pur-
pose, such as a cube for a boat, the greater is the
supposed appeal to the imagination.

There are several fallacies in this way of thinking.
(«) The I healthy imagination deals not with the unreal,
but with the mental reahzation of what is suggested.
Its exercise is not a flight into the purely fanciful and
ideal, but a method of expanding and filling in what is
real. To the child the homely activities going on about
him are not utilitarian devices for accoifiplishing physical
ends ; they exemplify a wonderful world the depths of
which he has not sounded, a world full of the mystery
and promise that attend all the doings of the grown-ups
whom he admires. However prosaic this world may be
to the adults who find its duties routine affairs, to the
child it is' fraught with social meaniiig. To engage in
it is to exercise the imagination in constructing an ex-
perience of wider value than any the child has yet
mastered.

(^) Educators sometimes think children are reacting
to a great moral or spiritual truth when the children's
reactions are largely physical and sensational. Children
have great powers of dramatic simulation, and their
physical bearing may seem (to adults prepossessed with
a philosophic theory) to indicate they have been im-
pressed with some lesson of chivalry, devotion, or nobil-
ity, when the children themselves are occupied only

ACTIVITY AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT 167

with transitory physical excitations. To symbolize great
truths far beyond the child's range of actual experience
is an impossibility, and to attempt it is to invite love of
momentary stimulation.

(c) Just as the opponents of play in education always Useful work
conceive of play as mere amusement, so the opponents s^y^hor"
of direct and useful activities confuse occupation with
labor. The adult is acquainted with responsible labor
upon which serious financial results depend. Conse-
quently he seeks relief, relaxation, amusement. Unless
children have prematurely worked for hire, unless they
have come under the blight of child labor, no such divi-
sion exists for them. Whatever appeals to them at all,
appeals directly on its own account. There is no con-
trast between doing things for utility and for fun. Their
life is more united and more wholesome. To suppose
that activities customarily performed by adults only
under the pressure of utility may not be done perfectly
freely and joyously by children indicates a lack of im-
agination. Not the thing done but the quality of mind
that goes into the doing settles what is utiUtarian and
what is unconstrained and educative.

§ 3. Constructive Occupations

The history of culture shows that mankind's scientific The historic
knowledge and technical abilities have developed, espe- ^!^„^g°o„t
cially in all their earlier stages, out of the fundamental of occupa-
problems of life. Anatomy and physiology grew out of ^°'^
the practical needs of keeping healthy and active ; ge-
ometry and mechanics out of demandg for measuring
land, for building, and for making labor^aving machines ;
astronomy has been closely connected with navigation,
keeping record of the passage of time ;. botany grew out

1 68

HOW WE THINK

of the requirements of medicine and of agronomy;
chemistry has been associated with dyeing, metallurgy,
and other industrial pursuits. In turn, modern industry
is almost wholly a matter of applied science ; year by
year the domain of routine and crude empiricism is nar-
rowed by the translation of scientific discovery into
industrial invention. The trolley, the telephone, the
electric Ught, the steam engine, with all their revolu-
tionary consequences for social intercourse and control,
are the fruits of science.

These facts are full of educational significance. Most
children are preeminently active in their tendencies.
The schools have also taken on — largely from utiHta-
rian, rather than from strictly educative reasons — a large
number of active pursuits commonly grouped under the
head of manual training, including also school gardens,
excursions, and various graphic arts. Perhaps the most
pressing problem of education at the present moment is
to organize and relate these subjects so that they will
become instruments for forming alert, persistent, and
fruitful intellectual habits. That they take hold of the
more primary and native equipment of children (appeal-
ing to their desire to do) is generally recognized ; that
they afford great opportunity for training in self-reliant
and efficient social service is gaining acknowledgment.
But they may also be used for presenting typical prob-
lems to be solved by personal reflection and experimen-
tation, and by acquiring definite bodies of knowledge
leading later to more specialized scientific knowledge.
There is indeed no magic by which mere physical
activity or deft manipulation will secure intellectual
results. (See p. 43.) Manual subjects may be taught
by routine, by dictation, or by convention as readily

ACTIVITY AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT 169

as bookish subjects. But intelligent consecutive work
in gardening, cooking, or weaving, or in elementary
wood and iron, may be planned which will inevitably
result in students not only amassing information of prac-
tical and scientific importance in botany, zoology, chem-
istry, physics, and other sciences, but (what is more
significant) in their becoming versed in methods of ex-
perimental inquiry and proof.

That the elementary curriculum is overloaded is a com-/ Reorganiza-
mon complaint. The only alternative to a reactionary ^°^°* *^*
return to the educational traditions of the past lies in study
working out the intellectual possibilities resident in the :
various arts, crafts, and occupations, and reorganizing
the curriculum accordingly. Here, more than else-
where, are found the means by which the blind and
routine experience of the race may be transformed into
illuminated and emancipated experiment.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LANGUAGE AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT

§ I. Language as the Tool of Thinking

Speech has such a peculiarly intimate connection with
thought as to require special discussion. Although the
very word logic comes from logos (\o'7o?), meaning in-
differently both word or speech, and thought or reason,
yet " words, words, words " denote intellectual barrenness,
a sham of thought. Although schooling has language
as its chief instrument (and often as its chief matter) of
study, educational reformers have for centuries brought
their severest indictments against the current use of lan-
guage in the schools. The conviction that language is
necessary to thinking (is even identical with it) is met
by the contention that language perverts and conceals
thought.

Three typical views have been maintained regarding
the relation of thought and language : first, that they
are identical ; second, that words are the garb or clothing
of thought, necessary not for thought but only for con-
veying it ; and third (the view we shall here maintain)
that while language is not thought it is necessary for
thinking as well as for its communication. When it is
said, however, that thinking is impossible without lan-
guage, we must recall that language includes much more
than oral and written speech. Gestures, pictures, monu-
ments, visual images, finger movements — anything con-

170

LANGUAGE AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT 171

sciously employed as a sign is, logically, language. To
say that language is necessary for thinking is to say
that signs are necessary. Thought- deals not with bare
things, but with their meanings, their suggestions ;
and meanings, in order to be apprehended, must be
embodied in sensible and particular existences. . With-
out meaning, things are nothing but blind stimuli or for it alone
chance sources of pleasure and pain ; and since mean- ?^*^ mean-
ings are not themselves tangible things, they must be
anchored by attachment to some physical existence.
Existences that are especially set aside to fixate and
convey meanings are signs or symbols. If a man moves
toward another to throw him out of the room, his move-
ment is not a sign. If, however, the man points to the
door with his hand, or utters the sound go, his movement
is reduced to a vehicle of meanjng : it is a sign or symbol.
In the case of signs we care nothing for what they are
in themselves, but everything for what they signify and
represent. Canis, hund, chien, dog — it makes no differ-
ence what the outward thing is, so long as the meaning
is presented.

Natural objects are signs of other things and events. Limitations'
Clouds stand for rain ; a footprint represents game or °y^bo"s
an enemy; a projectipg rock serves to indicate minerals
below the surface. The limitations of natural signs are^
however, great, {t) The physical or direct sense excita-
tion tends to distract attention from what is meant or
indicated.^ Almost every one will recall pointing out to
a kitten or puppy some object of food, only to have thd
animal devote himself to the hand pointing, not to the
thing pointed at. («) Where natural signs alone exist,
we are mainly at the mercy of external happenings ; we

1 Compare the quotation from Bain on p. 155.

172

HOW WE THINK

have to wait until the natural event presents itseK in
order to be warned or advised of the possibility of some
other event, (in) Natural signs, not being originally
intended to be signs, are cumbrous, bulky, inconvenient,
unmanageable.

It is therefore indispensable for any high development
of thought that there should be also intentional signs.
Speech supplies the requirement. Gestures, sounds,
written or printed forms, are strictly physical existences,
but their native value is intentionally subordinated to
the value they acquire as representative of meanings.
(J) The direct and sensible value of faint sounds and
minute written or printed marks is very slight.
Accordingly, attention is not distracted from their
representative function. (zV) Their production is under
our direct control so that they may be produced
when needed. When we can make the word rain, we
do not have to wait for some physical forerunner of rain
to call our thoughts in that direction. We cannot make
the cloud ; we can make the sound, and as a token of
meaning the sound serves the purpose as well as the
cloud, ijii') Arbitrary linguistic signs are convenient
and easy to manage. They are compact, portable, and
delicate. As long as we live we breathe ; and modifica-
tions by the muscles of throat and mouth of the volume
and quality of the air are simple, easy, and indefinitely
controllable. Bodily postures and gestures of the hand
and arm are also employed as signs, but they are coarse
and unmanageable compared with modifications of breath
to produce sounds. No wonder that oral speech has been
selected as the main stuff of intentional intellectual signs.
Sounds, while subtle, refined, and easily modifiable, are
transitory. This defect is met by the system of written

LANGUAGE AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT 173

and printed words, appealing to the eye. Litera scripta
manet.

Bearing in mind the intimate connection of meanings
and signs (or language), we may note in more detail
what language does (i) for specific meanings, and (2) for
the organization of meanings.

I. Individual Meanings. A verbal sign {a) selects,
detaches, a meaning from what is otherwise a vague
flux and blur (see p. 121); (^) it retains, registers, stores
that meaning ; and {c) applies it, when needed, to the
comprehension of other things. Combining these vari-
ous functions in a mixture of metaphors, we may say
that a hnguistic sign is a fence, a label, and a vehicle —
all in one.

{a) Every one has experienced how learning an ap- A sign
propriate name for what was dim and vague cleared up meanLg
and crystallized the whole matter. Some meaning seems distinct
almost within reach, but is elusive ; it refuses to condense
into definite form ; the attaching of a word somehow
(just how, it is^ almost impossible to say) puts limits
around the meaning, dJ^ws^it out from the void, makes
it stand out as an entity on its own account. When
Emerson said that he would almost rather knoV the true
name, the poet's name, for a thing, than to know the
thing itself, he presumably had this irradiating and il-
luminating function of language in mind. The delight
that children take in demanding and learning the names
of everything about them indicates that meanings are
becoming concrete individuals to them, so that their
commerce with things is passing from the physical to
the intellectual plane. It is hardly surprising that sav-
ages attach a magic efficacy to words. To name any-
thing is to give it a title; to dignify and honor it by

174

HOW WE THINK

raising it from a mere physical occurrence to a meaning
that is distinct and permanent. To know the names of
people and things and to be able to manipulate these
names is, in savage lore, to be in possession of their
dignity and worth, to master them.

{b) Things come and go; or we come and go, and
either way things escape our notice. Our direct sensible
relation to things is very limited. The suggestion of
meanings by natural signs is limited to occasions of di-
rect contact or vision. But a meaning fixed by a linguistic
sign is conserved for future use. Even if the thing is not
there to represent the meaning, the word may be pro-
duced so as to evoke the meaning. Since intellectual
life depends on possession of a store of meanings, the
importance of language as a tool of preserving meanings
cannot be overstated. To be sure, the method of storage
is not wholly aseptic ; words often corrupt and modify
the meanings they are supposed to keep intact, but
liability to infection is a price paid by every living thing
for the privilege of living.

{c) When a meaning is detached and fixed by a sign,
it is possible to use that meaning in a new context and
situation. This transfer and reapplication is the key to
all judgment and inference. It would little profit a man
to recognize that a given particular cloud was the pre-
monitor of a given particular rainstorm if his recognition
ended there, for he would then have to learn over and
over again, since the next cloud and the next rain are differ-
ent events. No cumulative growth of intelligence would
occur ; experience might form habits of physical adapta-
tion but it would not teach anything, for we should not
be able to use a prior experience consciously to anticipate
and regulate a further experience. To be able to use

LANGUAGE AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT 175

the past to judge and infer the new and unknown implies
that, although the past thing has gone, its meaning
abides in such a way as to be applicable in determining
the character of the new. Speech forms are our great
carriers : the easy-running vehicles by which meanings
are transported from experiences that no longer concern
us to those that are as yet dark and dubious.

II. Organization of Meanings. In emphasizing the
importance of signs in relation to specific meanings,
we have overlooked another aspect, equally valuable, upon signs
Signs not only mark off specific or individual meanings,
but they are also instruments of grouping meanings in
relation to one another. Words are not only names or
titles of single meanings ; they also form sentences in which
meanings are organized in relation to one another. When
we say " That book is a dictionary," or " That blur of
light in the heavens is Halley's comet," we express a
logical connection — an act of classifying and defining
that goes beyond the physical thing into the logical
region of genera and species, things and attributes. Prop-
ositions, sentences, bear the same relation to judgments
that distinct words, built up mainly by analyzing proposi-
tions in their various types, bear to meanings or concep-
tions; and just as words imply a sentence, so a sentence
implies a larger whole of consecutive discourse into
which it fits. As is often said, grammar e}ipresses the
unconscious logic of the popular mind. T^e chief intel-
lectual classifications that constitute ike working capital
of thought have been built up for u.s by our mother tongue.
Our very lack of explicit consciousness in using language
that we are employing the intellectual systematizations
of the race shows how thoroughly accustomed we have
become to its logical distinctions and groupings.

176

HOW WE THINK

§ 2. The Abuse of Linguistic Methods in Education

Taken literally, the maxim," Teach things, not words,"
or " Teach things before words," would be the negation of
education ; it would reduce mental life to mere physical
and sensible adjustments. Learning, in the proper sense,
is not learning things, but the meanings of things, and
this process involves the use of signs, or language in its
generic sense. In like fashion, the warfare of some
educational reformers against symbols, if pushed to ex-
tremes, involves the destruction of the intellectual life,
since this lives, moves, and has its being in those pro-
cesses of definition, abstraction, generalization, and
classification that are made possible by symbols alone.
Nevertheless, these contentions of educational reformers
have been needed. The liability of a thing to abuse
is in proportion to the value of its right use.

Symbols are themselves, as pointed out above, partic-
ular, physical, sensible existences, like any other things.
They are symbols only by virtue of what they suggest
and represent, i.e. meanings. (?) They stand for these
meanings to any individual only when he has had expe-
rience of some situation to which these meanings are
actually relevant. Words can detach and preserve a
meaning only when the meaning has been first involved in
our own direct intercourse with things. To attempt to
give a meaning through a word alone without any deal-
ings with a thing is to deprive the word of intelligible
signification ; against this attempt, a tendency only too
prevalent in education, reformers have protested. More-
over, there is a tendency to assume that wheneverthere,
is a definitg word jor f orm of speech there is also a defi-
nite idea ; while, as a matter of fact, adults and children
alike are capable of using even precise verbal formulae

LANGUAGE AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT 177

with only the vaguest and most confused sense of what
they mean. Genuine ignorance is more profitable be-
cause likely to be accompanied by humility, curiosity,
and open-mindedness ; while ability to repeat catch-
phrases, cant terms, familiar propositions, gives the
conceit of learning and coats the mind with a varnish
waterproof to new ideas.

(ii) Again, although new combinations of words with- Language
out the intervention of physical things may supply new ^gl^ pg^.
ideas, there are limits to this possibility. Lazy inertness sonai in-
causes individuals to accept ideas that have currency reflection
about them without personal inquiry and testing. A
man uses thought, perhaps, to find out what others
believe, and then stops. The ideas of others as em-
bodied in language become substitutes for one's own
ideas. The use of linguistic studies and methods to
halt the human mind on the level of the attainments
of the past, to prevent new inquiry and discovery, to
put the authority of tradition in place of the authority
of natural facts and laws, to reduce the individual to" a
parasite living on the secondhand experience of others
— these things have been the source of the reformers'
protest against the preeminence assigned to language in
schools.

Finally, words that originally stood for ideas come. Words as
with repeated use, to be mere counters; they become gtimuU
physical things to be manipulated according to certain
rules, or reacted to by certain operations without con-
sciousness of their meaning. Mr. Stout (who has called
such terms " substitute signs ") remarks that " algebra-
ical and arithmetical signs are to a great extent used as
mere substitute signs. ... It is possible to use signs
of this kind whenever fixed and definite rules of opera-

i;8 HOW WE THINK

tion can be derived from the nature of the things sym-
bolized, so as to be applied in manipulating the signs,
without further reference to their signification. A
word is an instrument for thinking about the meaning
which it expresses ; a substitute sign is a means of not
thinking about the meaning which it symbolizes." The
principle applies, however, to ordinary words, as well as
to algebraic signs ; they also enable us to use meanings
so as to get results without thinking. In many respects,
signs that are means of not thinking are of great advan-
tage ; standing for the familiar, they release attention for
meanings that, being novel, require conscious interpreta-
tion. Nevertheless, the premium put in the schoolroom
upon attainment of technical facility, upon skill in
producing external results {ante, p. 51), often changes
this advantage into a positive detriD^nt. In manipulat-
ing symbols so as to recite well, to get and give correct
answers, to follow prescribed formulae of analysis, the
pupil's attitude becomes mechanical, rather than thought-
ful; verbal memorizing is substituted for inquiry into
the meaning of things. This danger is perhaps the one
uppermost in mind when verbal methods of ^education
are attacked.

§ 3. The Use of Language in its Educational Bearings

Language stands in a twofold relation to the work of
education. On the one hand, it is continually used in
all studies as well as in all the social discipline of the
school; on the other, it is a distinct object of study.
We shall consider only the ordinary use of language,
since its effects upon habits of thought are much deeper
than those of conscious study. ;/■ .

The common statement that " language is the expres-

LANGUAGE AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT 179

sion of thought " conveys only a half-truth, and a half- Language
truth that is likely to result in positive error. Language marUy faitei-
does express thought, but not primarily, nor, at first, lectuai in
even consciously. The primary motive for language is ^"'^^°^*.
to influence (through the expression of desire, emotion,
and thought) the activity of others ; its secondary use is
to enter into more intimate sociable relations with them ;
its employment as a conscious vehicle of thought and
knowledge is a tertiary, and relatively late, formation.
The contrast is well brought out by the statement of
John Locke that words have a double use, — " civil " and
" philosophical." . " By their civil use, I mean such a
communication of thoughts and ideas by words as may
serve for the upholding of common conversation and
commerce about the ordinary affairs and conveniences
of civil life. . . . By the philosophical use of words, I
mean such a use of them as may serve to convey the
precise notions of things, and to express in general
propositions certain and undoubted truths."

This distinction of the practical and social from the Hence edu-
intellectual use of language throws much, light on the to transform
problem of the school in respect to speech. That prob- it into an
lem is to direct pupils' oral and written speech, used. ^^^^
primarily for practical and social ends, so that gradually\[
it shall become a conscious tool of conveying knowledge.}
and assisting thought. How without checking the;
spontaneous, natural motives — motives to which lan-
guage owes its vitality, force, vividness, and variety — are
we to modify speech habits so as to render them accu-
rate and flexible intellectual instruments } It is com-
paratively easy to encourage the original spontaneous
flow and not make language over into a servant of re-
flective thought ; it is comparatively easy to check and

i8o

HOW WE THINK

• almost destroy (so far as the schoolroom is concerned)
native aim and interest, and to set up artificial and
formal modes of expression in some isolated and techni-
cal matters. The difficulty lies in making over habits
that have to do with " ordinary affairs and conveniences "
into habits concerned with " precise notions." The suc-
' ; cessful accomplishing of the transformation requires
i (/) enlargement of the pupil's vocabulary ; (ii) rendering
. ; its terms more precise and accurate, and {iii) formation
of habits of consecutive discourse.

(i) Enlargement of vocabulary. This takes place, of
course, by wider intelHgent contact with things and
persons, and also vicariously, by gathering the meanings
of words from the context in which they are, heard or
read. To grasp by either method a word in its meaning
is to exercise intelligence, to perform an act of intelHgent
selection or analysis, and it is also to widen the fund of
meanings or concepts readily available in further intel-
lectual enterprises {ante, p. 126). It is usual to distin-
guish between one's active and one's passive vocabulary,
the latter being composed of the words that are under-
stood when they are heard or seen, the former of words
that are used intelligently. The fact that the passive
vocabulary is ordinarily much larger than the active
indicates a certain amount of inert energy, oi power not
freely controlled by an individual. Failure to use mean-
ings that are nevertheless understood reveals dependence
upon external stimulus, and lack of intellectual initiative.
This mental laziness is to some extent an artificial prod-
uct of education. Small children usually attempt to
put to use every new word they get hold of, but when
they learn to read they are introduced to a large variety
of terms that there is no ordinary opportunity to use.

LANGUAGE AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT l8l

The result is a kind of mental suppression, if not smother-
ing. Moreover, the meaning of words not actively used
in building up and conveying ideas is never quite clear-
cut or complete.

While a limited vocabulary may be due to a limited Looseness of
range of experience, to a sphere of contact with persons comp^fes*^'
and things so narrow as not to suggest or require a full a limited
store of words, it is also due to carelessness and vague- ^°'^^ " ^"^
ness. A happy-go-lucky frame of mind makes the
individual averse to clear discriminations, either in per-
ception or in his own speech. Words are used loosely
in an indeterminate kind of reference to things, and
the mind approaches a condition where practically
everything is just a thing-um-bob or a what-do-you-call-
it. Paucity of vocabulary on the part of those with
whom the child associates, triviality and meagerness in
the child's reading matter (as frequently even in his
school readers and textbooks), tend to shut down the
area of mental vision.

We must note also the great difference between flow Command
of words and command of language. Volubility is not ^,^1"*^*
necessarily a sign of a large vocabulary ; much talking command of
or even ready speech is quite compatible with moving ^^
round and round in a circle of moderate radius.
Most schoolrooms suffer from a lack of materials and
apphances save perhaps books — and even these are
" written down " to the supposed capacity, or incapacity,
of children. Occasion and demand for an enriched vo-
cabulary are accordingly restricted. The vocabulary of
things studied in the schoolroom is very largely isolated;
it does not Unk itself organically to the range of the
ideas and words that are in vogue outside the school.
Hence the enlargement that takes place is often nominal,

1 82 HOW WE THINK

adding to the inert, rather than to the active, fund of
meanings and terms.

{ii) Accuracy of vocabulary. One way in which the
fund of words and concepts is increased is by discovering
and naming shades of meaning — that is to say, by mak-
ing the vocabulary more precise. Increase in defijrite-
ness is as important relatively as is the enlargement of
the capital stock absolutely.

The first meanings of terms, since they are due to
superficial acquaintance with things, are general in the
sense of being vague. The little child calls all men
papa ; acquainted with a dog, he may call the first horse
he sees a big dog. Differences of quantity and intensity
are noted, but the fundamental meaning is so vague that
it covers things that are far apart. To many persons
trees are just trees, being discriminated only into de-
ciduous trees and evergreens, with perhaps recognition
of one or two kinds of each. Such vagueness tends to
persist and to become a barrier to the advance of think-
ing. Terms that are miscellaneous in scope are clumsy
tools at best ; in addition they are frequently treacherous,
for their ambiguous reference causes us to confuse
things that should be distinguished.

The growth of precise terms out of original vague-
ness takes place normally in two directions : toward
words that stand for relationships and words that stand
for highly individualized traits (compare what' was said
about the development of meanings, p. 122); the first
being associated with abstract, the second with concrete,
thinking. Some Australian tribes are said to have no
words for animal or for plant, while they have specific
names for every variety of plant and animal in their
neighborhoods. This minuteness of vocabulary repre-

LANGUAGE AND THE TPIAINING OF THOUGHT 183

sents progress toward definiteness, but in a one-sided way.
Specific properties are distinguished, but not relation-
ships.^ On the other hand, students of philosophy and
of the general aspects of natural and social science are
apt to acquire a store of terms that signify relations
without balancing them up with terms that designate
specific individuals and traits. The ordinary use of
such terms as causation, law, society, individual, capital,
illustrates this tendency.

In the history of language we find both aspects of the Words alter
growth of vocabulary illustrated by changes in the sense ^^" mean-
of words: some words originally wide in their applica- change their
tion are narrowed to denote shades of meaning ; others J^^'cyong
originally .specific are widened to express relationships.
The term vernacular, now meaning mother speech, has
been generalized from the word verna, meaning a slave
bom in the master's household. Publication has evolved
its meaning of communication by means of print, through
restricting an earlier meaning of any kind of communi-
cation -;- although the wider meaning is retained in legal
procedure, as publishing a libel. The sense of the word
average has been generalized from a use connected with
dividing loss by shipwreck proportionately among various
sharers in an enterprise.^

These historical changes assist the educator to appre-
ciate the changes that occur with individuals together
with advance in intellectual resoiirces. In studying

^The tenn general is itself an ambiguous term, meaning (in its best
logical sense) the related and also (in its natural usage) the indefinite, the
vague. General, in the first sense, denotes the discrimination of a prin-
ciple or generic relation ; in the second sense, it denotes the absence of
discrimination of specific or individual properties.

^ A large amount of material illustrating the twofold change in the sense
of words vrill be found in Jevons, Lessons in Logic.

1 84

HOW WE THINK

geometry, a pupil must learn both to narrow and to
extend the meanings of such familiar words as line, sur-
face, angle, square, circle; to narrow them to the precise
meanings involved in demonstrations ; to extend them
to cover generic relations not expressed in ordinary
usage. Qualities of color and size must be excluded;
relations of direction, of variation in direction, of limit,
must be definitely seized. A like transformation occurs,
of course, in every subject of study. Just at this point
lies the danger, alluded to above, of simply overlaying
common meanings with new and isolated meanings in-
stead of effecting a genuine working-over of popular
and practical meanings into adequate logical tools.

Terms used with intentional exactness so as to ex-
press a meaning, the whole meaning, and only the mean-
ing, are called technical. For educational purposes, a
technical term indicates something relative, not absolute ;
for a term is technical not because of its verbal form or
its unusualness, but because it is employed to fix a
meaning precisely. Ordinary words get a technical
quality when used intentionally for this end. Whenever
thought becomes more accurate, a (relatively) technical
vocabulary grows up. Teachers are apt to oscillate
between extremes in regard to technical terms. On the
one hand, these are multiplied in every direction, seem-
ingly on the assumption that learning a new piece of
terminology, accompanied by verbal description or
definition, is equivalent to grasping a new idea. When
it is seen how largely the net outcome is the accumula-
tion of an isolated set of words, a jargon or scholastic
cant, and to what extent the natural power of judgment
is clogged by this accumulation, there is a reaction to
the opposite extreme. Technical terms are banished;

LANGUAGE AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT 185

" name words " exist but not nouns ; " action words " but
not verbs ; pupils may " take away," but not subtract ;
they may tell what four fives are, but not what four
times five are, and so on. A sound instinct underlies this
reaction — aversion to words that give the pretense, but
not the reality, of meaning. Yet the fundamental diffi-
culty is not with the word, but with the idea. If the
idea is not grasped, nothing is gained by using a more
familiar word ; if the idea is perceived, the use of the
term that exactly names it may assist in fixing the idea.
Terms denoting highly exact meanings should be intro-
duced only sparingly, that is, a few at a time; they
should be led up to gradually, and great pains should be
taken to secure the circumstances that render precision
of meaning significant.

(m) Consecutive discourse. As we saw, language
connects and organizes meanings as well as selects and
fixes them. As every meaning is set in the context of
some situation, so every word in concrete use belongs to
some sentence (it may itself represent a condensed sen-
tence), and the sentence, in turn, belongs to some larger
story, description, or reasoning process. It is unnecessary
to repeat what has been said about the importance of
continuity and ordering of meanings. We may, however,
note some ways in which school practices tend to inter-
rupt consecutiveness of language and thereby interfere
harmfully with systematic reflection, (a) Teachers have Importance
a habit of monopolizing continued discourse. Many, if ^^'^^"dlj!'""
not most, instructors would be surprised if informed at course
the end of the day of the amount of time they have
talked as compared with any pupil. Children's conver-
sation is often confined to answering questions in brief
phrases, or in single disconnected sentences. Expatia-

1 86

HOW WE THINK

tion and explanation are reserved for the teacher, who
often admits any hint at an answer on the part of the
pupil, and then amplifies what he supposes the child must
have meant. The habits of sporadic and fragmentary
discourse thus promoted have inevitably a disintegrating
intellectual influence.

(b) Assignment of too short lessons when accom-
panied (as it usually is in order to pass the time of the
recitation period) by minute "analytic" questioning
has the same effect. This evil is usually at its height
in such subjects as history and literature, where not
infrequently the material is so minutely subdivided as
to break up the unity of meaning belonging to a given
portion of the matter, to destroy perspective, and in
effect to reduce the whole topic to an accumulation of
disconnected details all upon the same level. More
often than the teacher is aware, Ms mind carries and
supplies the background of unity of meaning against
which pupils project isolated scraps.

{c) Insistence upon avoiding error instead of attain-
ing power tends also to interruption of continuous dis-
course and thought. Children who begin with something
to say and with intellectual eagerness to say it are some-
times made so conscious of minor errors in substance
and form that the energy that should go into constructive
thinking is diverted into anxiety not to make mistakes,
and even, in extreme cases, into passive quiescence as
the best method of minimizing error. This tendency
is especially marked in connection with the writing of
compositions, essays, and themes. It has even been
gravely recommended that little children should always
write on trivial subjects and in short sentences because
in that way they are less likely to make mistakes, while

LANGUAGE AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT 187

the teaching of writing to high school and college
students occasionally reduces itself to a technique for
detecting and designating mistakes. The resulting self-
consciousness and constraint are only part of the evil
that comes from a negative ideal.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

OBSERVATION AND INFORMATION IN THE TRAINING

OF raND

Thinking is an ordering of subject-matter with ref-
erence to discovering what it signifies or indicates.
Thinking no more exists apart from this arranging of
subject-matter than digestion occurs apart from the
assimilating of food. The way in which the subject-
matter is furnished marks, therefore, a fundamental
point. If the subject-matter is provided in too scanty
or too profuse fashion, if it comes in disordered array or
in isolated scraps, the effect upon habits of thought is
detrimental. If personal observation and communica-
tion of information by others (whether in books or
speech) are rightly conducted, half the logical battle is
won, for they are the channels of obtaining subject-
matter.

§ I. The Nature and Value of Observation

The protest, mentioned in the last chapter, of educa-
tional reformers against the exaggerated and false use
of language, insisted upon personal and direct observa-
tion as the proper alternative course. The reformers
felt that the current emphasis upon the linguistic factor
eliminated all opportunity for first-hand acquaintance
with real things ; hence they appealed to sense-percep-
tion to fill the gap. It is not surprising that this
enthusiastic zeal failed frequently to ask how and why

OBSERVATION AND INFORMATION 189

observation is educative, and hence fell into the error of
making observation an end in itself and was satisfied
with any kind of material under any kind of conditions.
Such isolation of observation is still manifested in the
statement that this faculty develops first, then that of
memory and imagination, and finally the faculty of
thought. From this point of view, observation is re-
garded as furnishing crude masses of raw material, to
which, later on, reflective processes may be applied.
Our previous pages should have, made obvious the fal-
lacy of this point of view by bringing out the fact that
simple concrete thinking attends all our intercourse with
things which is not on a purely physical level.

I. All persons have a natural desire — akin to curios- The sympa-
ity — for a widening of their range of acquaintance motive in
with persons and things. The sign in art galleries that extending
forbids the carrying of canes and umbrellas is obvious ^^^"^ '
testimony to the fact that simply to see is not enough
for many people ; there is a feeling of lack of acquaint-
ance until some direct contact is made. This demand
for fuller and closer knowledge is quite different from
any conscious interest in observation for its own sake.
Desire for expansion, for " self-realization," is itsmotive.
The interest is sympathetic, socially and aesthetically
sympathetic, rather than cognitive. While the interest
is especially keen in children (because their actual ex-
perience is so small and their possible experience so
large), it still characterizes adults when routine has not
blunted its edge. This sympathetic interest provides
the medium for carrying and binding together what
would otherwise be a multitude of items, diverse, discon-
nected, and of no intellectual use. These systems are
indeed social and aesthetic rather than consciously intel-

igo HOW WE THINK

lectual ; but they provide the natural medium for more
conscious intellectual explorations. Some educators have
recommended that nature study in the elementary schools
be conducted with a love of nature and a cultivation of
aesthetic appreciation in view rather than in a purely
analytic spirit. Others have urged making much of the
care of animals and plants. Both of these important
recommendations have grown out of experience, not out
of theory, but they afford excellent exemplifications of
the theoretic point just made.

II. In normal development, specific analytic observa-
tions are originally connected almost exclusively with
the imperative need for noting means and ends in carry-
ing on activities. When one is doing something, one is
compelled, if the work is to succeed (unless it is purely
routine), to use eyes, ears, and sense of touch as guides
to action. Without a constant and alerts exercise of the
senses, not even plays and games can go on; fti any
form of work, materials, obstacles, appliances, failures,
and successes, must be intently watched. Sense-percep-
tion does not occur for its own sake or for purposes of
training, but because it is an indispensable factor of suc-
cess in doing what one is interested in doing. Although
not designed for sense-training, this method effects sense-
training in the most economical and thoroughgoing way.
Various schemes have been designed by teachers for
cultivating sharp and prompt observation of forms, as
by writing words, — even in an unknown language, —
making arrangements of figures and geometrical forms,
and having pupils reproduce them after a momentary
glance. Children often attain great skill in quick see-
ing and full reproducing of even complicated meaning-
less combinations. But such methods of training —

OBSERVATION AND INFORMATION 191

however valuable as occasional games and diversions —
compare very unfavorably with the training of eye and
hand that comes as an incident of work with tools in
wood or metals, or of gardening, cooking, or the care of
animals. Training by isolated exercises leaves no de-
posit, leads nowhere; and even the technical skill ac-
quired has little radiating power, or transferable value.
Criticisms made upon the training of observation on the
ground that many persons cannot correctly reproduce
the forms and arrangement of the figures on the face of Direct and

their watches misses the point because persons do not "i"*"^"*
^ ^ sense

look at a watch to find out whether four o'clock is indi- training
cated by IIII or by IV, but to find out what time it is,
and, if observation decides this matter, noting other de-
tails is irrelevant and a waste jof time. In the training
of observation the question of end and motive is all-
important.

III. The further, more intellectual or scientific, de-
velopment of observation follows the line of the growth
of practical into theoretical reflection already traced problems
(ante, Chapter Ten). As problems emerge and are
dwelt upon, observation is directed less to the facts
that bear upon a practical aim and more upon what
bears upon a problem as such. What makes observa-
tions in schools often intellectually ineffective is (more
than anything else) that they are carried on independ-
ently of a sense of a problem that they serve to define
or help to solve. The evil of this isolation is seen
through the entire educational system, from the kin-
dergarten, through the elementary and high schools, to
the college. Almost everywhere may be found, at some
time, recourse to observations as if they were of com-
plete and final value in themselves, instead of the means

192

HOW WE THINK

of getting material that bears upon some difficulty and
its solution. In the kindergarten are heaped up obser-
vations regarding geometrical forms, lines, surfaces,
cubes, colors, and so on. In the elementary school, under
the name of "object-lessons," the form and properties
of objects, — apple, orange, chalk, — selected almost at
random, are minutely noted, while under the name of
"nature study" similar observations are directed upon
leaves, stones, insects, selected in almost equally arbitrary
fashion. In high school and college, laboratory and mi-
croscopic observations are carried on as if the accumu-
lation of observed facts and the acquisition of skill in
manipulation were educational ends in themselves.

Compare with these methods of isolated observations
the statement of Jevons that observation as conducted
by scientific men is effective "only when excited and
guided by hope of verifying a theory " ; and again, " the
number of things which can be observed and experi-
mented upon are infinite, and if we merely set to work to
record facts without any distinct purpose, our records will
have no value." Strictly speaking, the first statement
of Jevons is too narrow. Scientific men institute observa-
tions not merely to test an idea (or suggested explanatory-
meaning), but also to locate the nature of a problem and
thereby guide the formation of a hypothesis. But the
principle of his remark, namely, that scientific men never
make the accumulation of observations an end in itself,
but always a means to a general intellectual conclusion,
is absolutely sound. Until the force of this principle is
adequately recognized in education, observation will be
largely a matter of uninteresting dead work or of acquir-
ing forms of technical skill that are not available as in-
tellectual resources.

OBSERVATION AND INFORMATION 193

§ 2. Methods and Materials of Observation in the Schools
The best methods in use in our schools furnish many-
suggestions for giving observation its right place in
mental training.

I. They rest upon the sound assumption that observa- Observation
tion is an active process. Observation is exploration, ^oi"^ jS-"
inquiry for the sake of discovering something previously covery
hidden and unknown, this something being needed in

order to reach some end, practical or theoretical. Ob-
servation is to be discriminated from recognition, or
perception of what is familiar. The identification of
something already understood is, indeed, an indispen-
sable function of further investigation {ante, p. 1 19) ; but
it is relatively automatic and passive, while observation
proper is searching and deliberate. Recognition refers
to the already mastered ; observation is concerned with
mastering the unknown. The common notions that
perception is like writing on a blank piece of paper, or
like impressing an image on the mind as a seal is
imprinted on wax or as a picture is formed on a photo-
graphic plate (notions that have played a disastrous r61e
in educational methods), arise from a failure to distin-
guish between automatic recognition and the searching
attitude of genuine observation.

II. Much assistance in the selection of appropriate andsus-
material for observation may be derived from consider- anunfoUing
ing the eagerness and closeness of observation that attend change
the following of a story or drama. Alertness of ob-
servation is at its height wherever there is " plot interest."

Why ? Because of the balanced combination of the old
and the new, of the familiar and the unexpected. We
hang on the lips of the story-teller because of the
element of mental suspense. Alternatives are suggested.

194

HOW WE THINK

but are left ambiguous, so that our whole being questions:
What befell next ? Which way did things turn out ?
Contrast the ease and fullness with which a child notes
all the salient traits of a story, with the labor and
inadequacy of his observation of some dead and static
thing where nothing raises a question or suggests alter-
native outcomes.

When an individual is engaged in doing or making
something (the activity not being of such a mechanical
and habitual character that its outcome is assured), there
is an analogous situation. Something is going to come
of what is present to the sense, but just what is doubt-
ful. The plot is unfolding toward success or failure,
but just when or how is uncertain. Hence the keen
and tense observation of conditions and results that
attends constructive manual operations. Where the
subject-matter is of a more impersonal sort, the same
principle of movement toward a denouement may apply.
It is a commonplace that what is moving attracts notice
when that which is at rest escapes it. Yet too often it
would almost seem as if pains had been taken to deprive
the material of school observations of all life and dra-
matic quality, to reduce it to a dead and inert form.
Mere change is not enough, however. Vicissitude,
alteration, motion, excite observation ; but if they
merely excite it, there is no thought. The changes
must (like the incidents of a well-arranged story or plot)
take place in a certain cumulative order ; each succes-
sive change must at once remind us of its predecessor
and arouse interest in its successor if observations of
change are to be logically fruitful.

Living beings, plants, and animals, fulfill the twofold
requirement to an extraordinary degree. Where there

OBSERVATION AND INFORMATION 195

is growth, there is motion, change, process ; and there is
also arrangement of the changes in a cycle. The first
arouses, the second organizes, observation. Much of the
extraordinary interest that children take in planting
seeds and watching the stages of their growth is due to
the fact that a drama is enacting before their eyes;
there is something doing, each step of which is impor-
tant in the destiny of the plant. The great practical
improvements that have occurred of late years in the
teaching of botany and zoology will be found, upon in-
spection, to involve treating plants and animals as beings
that act, that do something, instead of as mere inert
specimens having static properties to be inventoried,
named, and registered. Treated in the latter fashion,
observation is inevitably reduced to the falsely " analytic"
(ante, p. 112), — to mere dissection and enumeration.

There is, of course, a place, and an important place. Observation
for observation of the mere static qualities of objects. Lo°w"out'*
When, however, the primary interest is in function, in of noting
what the object does, there is a motive for more minute
analytic study, for the observation of structure. Interest
in noting an activity passes insensibly into noting how
the activity is carried on ; the interest in what is accom-
plished passes over into an interest in the organs of its
accomplishing. But when the beginning is made with
the morphological, the anatomical, the noting of pecuHar-
ities of form, size, color, and distribution of parts, the
material is so cut off from significance as to be dead and
dull. It is as natural for children to look intently for
the stomata of a plant after they have become interested
in its function of breathing, as it is repulsive to attend
minutely to them when they are considered as isolated
peculiarities of structure.

196

HOW WE THINK

III. As the center of interest of observations becomes
less personal, less a matter of means for effecting one's
own ends, and less aesthetic, less a matter of contribution
of parts to a total emotional effect, observation becomes
more consciously intellectual in quality. Pupils learn
to observe for the sake (?) of finding out what sort of
perplexity confronts them ; (zV) of inferring hypothetical
explanations for the puzzling features that observation
reveals ; and (iii) of testing the ideas thus suggested.

In short, observation becomes scientific in nature.
Of such observations it may be said that they should
follow a rhythm between the extensive and the intensive.
Problems become definite, and suggested explanations
significant by a certain alternation between a wide and
somewhat loose soaking in of relevant facts and a mi-
nutely accurate study of a few selected facts. The
wider, less exact observation is necessary to give the
student a feeling for the reality of the field of inquiry, a
sense of its bearings and possibilities, and to store his
mind with materials that imagination may transform
into suggestions. The intensive study is necessary for
limiting the problem, and for securing the conditions of
experimental testing. As the latter by itself is too
specialized and technical to arouse intellectual growth,
the former by itself is too superficial and scattering for
control of intellectual development. In the sciences
of life, field study, excursions, acquaintance with living
things in their natural habitats, may alternate with
microscopic and laboratory observation. In the physical
sciences, phenomena of Hght, of heat, of electricity, of
moisture, of gravity, in their broad setting in nature —
their physiographic setting — should prepare for an exact
study of selected facts under conditions of laboratory

OBSERVATION AND INFORMATION 197

control. In this way, the student gets the benefit of
technical scientific methods of discovery and testing,
while he retains his sense of the identity of the labora-
tory modes of energy with large out-of-door realities,
thereby avoiding the impression (that so often accrues)
that the facts studied are peculiar to the laboratory.

§ 3. Communication of Information

When all is said and done the field of fact open to Importance
any one observer by himself is narrow. Into every one of °* ^^^^^
our beliefs, even those that we have worked out under the ance
conditions of utmost personal, first-hand acquaintance,
much has insensibly entered from what we have heard
or read of the observations and conclusions of others.
In spite of the great extension of direct observation in
our schools, the vast bulk of educational subject-matter
is derived from other sources — from text-book, lecture,
and viva-voce interchange. No educational question is
of greater import than how to get the most logical good
out of learning through transmission from others.

Doubtless the chief meaning associated with the
word instruction is this conveying and instilling of the
results of the observations and inferences of othfers.
Doubtless the undue prominence in education of the
ideal of amassing information {ante, p. 52) has its source
in the prominence of the learning of other persons.
The problem then is how to convert it into an intel-
lectual asset. In logical terms, the material suppUed
from the experience of others is testimony: that is to
say, evidence submitted by others to be employed by
one's own judgment in reaching a conclusion. How
shall we treat the subject-matter supphed by textbook
and teacher so that it shall rank as material for reflec-

198 HOW WE THINK

tive inquiry, not as ready-made intellectual pabulum
to be accepted and swallowed just as supplied by the
store ?

In reply to this question, we may say («') that the com-
munication of material should be needed. That is to say,
it should be such as cannot readily be attained by per-
sonal observation. For teacher or book to cram pupils
with facts which, with little more trouble, they could
discover by direct inquiry is to violate their intellectual
integrity by cultivating mental servility. This does not
mean that the material supplied through communication
of others should be meager or scanty. With the utmost
range of the senses, the world of nature and history
stretches out almost infinitely beyond. But the fields
within which direct observation is feasible should be
carefully chosen and sacredly protected.

(«) Material should be supplied by way of stimulus,
not with dogmatic finality and rigidity. When pupils
get the notion that any field of study has been definitely
surveyed, that knowledge about it is exhaustive and final,
they may continue docile pupils, but they cease to be
students. All thinking whatsoever — so be it is think-
ing — contains a phase of originality. This originality
does not imply that the student's conclusion varies from
the conclusions of others, much less that it is a radically
novel conclusion. His originality is not incompatible
with large use of materials and suggestions contributed
by others. Originality means personal interest in the
question, personal initiative in turning over the sugges-
tions furnished by others, and sincerity in following
them out to a tested conclusion. Literally, the phrase
"Think for yourself" is tautological; any thinking is
thinking for one's self.

OBSERVATION AND INFORMATION 199

{in) The material furnished by way of information should have
should be relevant to a question that is vital in the
student's own experience. What has been said about
the evil of observations that begin and end in themselves
may be transferred without change to communicated
learning. Instruction in subject-matter that does not
fit into any problem already stirring in the student's own
experience, or that is not presented in such a way as to
arouse a problem, is worse than useless for intellectual
purposes. In that it fails to enter into any process of
reflection, it is useless ; in that it remains in the mind as
so much lumber and debris, it is a barrier, an obstruc- ?
tion in the way of effective thinking when a problem
arises.

Another way of stating the same principle is that and to prior

material furnished by communication must be such ^''1**'?^°!
.' expenence

as to enter into some existing system or organization of
experience. All students of psychology are familiar
with the principle of apperception — that we assimilate
new material with what we have digested and retained
from prior experiences. Now the " apperceptive basis "
of material furnished by teacher and text-book should
be found, as far as possible, in what the learner has de-
rived from more direct forms of his own experience.
There is a tendency to connect material of the school-
room simply with the material of prior school lessons,
instead of linking it to what the pupil has acquired in
his out-of-school experience. The teacher says, " Do
you not remember what we learned from the book last
week } " — instead of saying, " Do you not recall such
and such a thing that you have seen or heard ? " As a
result, there are built up detached and independent
systems of school knowledge that inertly overlay the

200 HOW WE THINK

ordinary systems of experience instead of reacting to
enlarge and refine them. Pupils are taught to live in
two separate worlds, one the world of out-of-school ex-
perience, the other the world of books and lessons.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE RECITATION AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT

In the recitation the teacher comes into his closest Importance
contact with the pupil. In the recitation focus the "ec^atioii
possibilities of guiding children's activities, influencing
their language habits, and directing their observations.
In discussing the significance of the recitation as an
instrumentality of education, we are accordingly bring-
ing to a head the points considered in the last three
chapters, rather than introducing a new topic. The
method in which the recitation is carried on is a crucial
test of a teacher's skill in diagnosing the intellectual
state of his pupils and in supplying the conditions that
will arouse serviceable mental responses : in short, of
his art as a teacher.

The use of the word recitation to designate the period Re-citing

of most intimate intellectual contact of teacher with •^^'■^"s

reflecting
pupil and pupil with pupil is a fateful fact. To re-cite

is to cite again, to repeat, to tell over and over. If we
were to call this period reiteration, the designation
would hardly bring out more clearly than does the word
recitation, the complete domination of instruction by
rehearsing of secondhand information, by memorizing
for the sake of producing correct replies at the proper
time. Everything that is said in this chapter is in-
significant in comparison with the primary truth that \
the recitation is a place and time for stimulating and '
directing reflection, and that reproducing memorized (

202

HOW WE THINK

Herbart's
analysis
of method
of teaching

matter is only an incident — even though an indispen-
i sable incident — in the process of cultivating a thought-
ful attitude.

§1. The Formal Steps of Instruction

But few attempts have been made to formulate a
method, resting on general principles, of conducting
a recitation. One of these is of great importance and
has probably had more and better influence upon the
"hearing of lessons" than all others put together;
namely, the analysis by Herbart of a recitation ' into
five successive steps. The steps are commonly known
as "the formal steps of instruction." The underlying
notion is that no matter how subjects vary in scope and
detail there is one and only one best way of mastering
them, since there is a single "general method" uni-
formly followed by the mind in effective attack upon
any subject. Whether it be a first-grade child master-
ing the rudiments of number, a grammar-school pupil
studying history, or a college student deahng with
I philology, in each case the first step is preparation,
j the second presentation, followed in turn by comparison
land generalization, ending in the application of the
■generalizations to specific and new instances.
Illustration By preparation is meant asking questions to remind
° ™* ° pupils of familiar experiences of their own that will be
useful in acquiring the new topic. What one already
knows supplies the means with which one apprehends
the unknown. Hence the process of learning the new
will be made easier if related ideas in the pupil's mind
are aroused to activity — are brought to the foreground
of consciousness. When pupils take up the study of
rivers, they are first questioned about streams or brooks

RECITATION AND TRAINING OF THOUGHT 203

with which they are already acquainted ; if they have
never seen any, they may be asked about water running
in gutters. Somehow " apperceptive masses " are stirred
that will assist in getting hold of the new subject. The
step of preparation ends with statement of the aim of
the lesson. Old knowledge having been made active,
new material is then " presented " to the pupils. Pic-
tures and relief models of rivers are shown ; vivid oral
descriptions are given ; if possible, the children are
taken to see an actual river. These two steps termi-
nate the acquisition of particular facts.

The next two steps are directed toward getting a
general principle or conception. The local river is
compared with, perhaps, the Amazon, the St. Law-
rence, the Rhine ; by this comparison accidental and
unessential features are.eliminated and the river concept is
formed : the elements involved in the river-meaning are
gathered together and formulated. This done, the re-
sulting principle is fixed in mind and is clarified by
being applied to other streams, say to the Thames, the
Po, the Connecticut.

If we compare this account of the methods of in- Comparison
struction with our own analysis of a complete operation ^^^"^ °"'' ,

J re prior analy-

of thinking, we are struck by obvious resemblances. ~ In^-sjs of
our statement (compare Chapter Six) the " steps " are "^
the occurrence of a problem or a puzzling phenom-
enon ; then observation , inspection of facts, to locate
and clear up the problem ; then the f ormati on of a
hypothesis or_the suggestion of a possible solution
together with its elaboration by reasoning ; then the
testing^ of the elaborated idea by using it as a guide
to new observations and experimentations. In each i
account, there is the sequence of («') specific facts and '

204

HOW WE THINK

events, {it) ideas and reasonings, and (in) application of
(their result to specific facts. In each case, the move-
ment is inductive-deductive. We are struck also by one
difference : the Herbartian method makes no reference
to a difficulty, a discrepancy requiring explanation, as
the origin and stimulus of the whole process. As a
consequence, it often seems as if the Herbartian method
deals with thought simply as an incident in the process
of acquiring information, instead of treating the latter
as an incident in the process of developing thought.

Before following up this comparison in more detail,
we may raise the question whether the recitation should,
in any case, follow a uniform prescribed series of steps
— even if it be admitted that this series expresses the
normal logical order. In reply, it may be said that just
because the order is logical, it represents the survey of
subject-matter made by one who already understands
it, not the path of progress followed by a mind that is
learning. The former may describe a uniform straight-
way course, the latter must be a series of tacks, of zig-
zag movements back and forth. In short, the formal
steps indicate the points that should be covered by the
teacher in preparing to conduct a recitation, but should
not prescribe the actual course of teaching.

Lack of any preparation on the part of a teacher
leads, of course, to a random, haphazard recitation, its
success depending on the inspiration of the moment,
which may or may not come. Preparation in simply
the subject-matter conduces to a rigid order, the teacher
examining pupils on their exact knowledge of their text.
But the teacher's problem — as a teacher — does not
reside in mastering a subject-matter, but in adjusting
a subject-matter to the nurture of thought. Now the

RECITATION AND TRAINING OF THOUGHT 205

formal steps indicate excellently well the questions a
teacher should ask in working out the problem of teach-
ing a topic. What preparation have my pupils for at-
tacking this subject ? What familiar experiences of
theirs are available ? What have they already learned
that will come to their assistance ? How shall I present
the matter so as to fit economically and effectively into
their present equipment ? What pictures shall I show ?
To what objects shall I call their attention ? What inci-
dents shall I relate? What comparisons shall I lead
them to draw, what similarities to recognize ? What
is the general principle toward which the whole dis-
cussion should point as its conclusion ? By what ap-
plications shall I try to fix, to clear up, and to make
real their grasp of this general principle ? What
activities of their own may bring it home to them as
a genuinely significant principle ?

No teacher can fail to teach better if he has con- oniyflexi-
sidered such questions somewhat systematically. But biiity"*

. procedure

the more the teacher has reflected upon pupils' probable gives a
intellectual response to a topic from the various stand- ""!f^°°
points indicated by the five formal steps, the more he
will be prepared to conduct the recitation in a flexible
and free way, and yet not let the subject go to
pieces and the pupils' attention drift in all directions ;
the less necessary will he find it, in order to preserve a
semblance of intellectual order, to follow some one
uniform scheme. He will be ready to take advantage
of any sign of vital response that shows itself from any
direction. One pupil may already have some inkling —
probably erroneous — of a general principle. Applica-
tion may then come at the very beginning in order to
show that the principle will not work, and thereby

206 HOW WE THINK

induce search for new facts and a new generalization.
Or the abrupt presentation of some fact or object may
so stimulate the minds of pupils as to render quite
superfluous any preliminary preparation. If pupils'
minds are at work at all, it is quite impossible that they
should wait until the teacher has conscientiously taken
them through the steps of preparation, presentation, and
comparison before they form at least a working hypothe-
sis or generalization. Moreover, unless comparison of
the familiar and the unfamiliar is introduced at the
beginning, both preparation and presentation will be
aimless and without logical motive, isolated, and in
so far meaningless. The student's mind cannot be
prepared at large, but only for something in par-
ticular, and presentation is usually the best way of
evoking associations. The emphasis may fall now on
the familiar concept that will help grasp the new, now
on the new facts that frame the problem ; but in either
case it is comparison and contrast with the other term
of the pair which gives either its force. In short,
to transfer the logical steps from the points that the
teacher needs to consider to uniform successive steps
in the conduct of a recitation, is to impose the logical
/review of a mind that already understands the subject,
upon the mind that is struggling to comprehend it, and
thereby to obstruct the logic of the student's own mind.

§ 2. The Factors in the Recitation

Bearing in mind that the formal steps represent inter-
twined factors of a student's progress and not mileposts
on a beaten highway, we may consider each by itself.
In so doing, it will be convenient to follow the example
of many of the Herbartians and reduce the steps tO

RECITATION AND TRAINING OF THOUGHT 20^

three : first, the apprehension of specific or particular '
facts ; second, rational generalization ; third, application
and verification.

I. The processes having to do with particular facts Preparation
are preparation and presentation. The best, indeed the Jf g«"™5
only preparation is arousal to a perception of something a problem
that needs explanation, something unexpected, puzzling,
peculiar. When the feeling of a genuine perplexity lays
hold of any mind (no matter how the feeling arises), that
mind is alert and inquiring, because stimulated from
within. The shock, the bite, of a question will force the
mind to go wherever it is capable of going, better than
will the most ingenious pedagogical devices unaccom-
panied by this mental ardor. It is the sense of a
problem that forces the mind to a survey and recall of
the past to discover what the question means and how
it may be dealt with.

The teacher in his more deliberate attempts to call Pitfalls in
into play the familiar elements in a student's experience, p^'^P"'*
must guard against certain dangers, it) The step of
preparation must not be too long continued or too ex-
haustive, or it defeats its own end. The pupil loses in-
terest and is bored, when a plunge in medias res might
have braced him to his work. The preparation part of
the recitation period of some conscientious teachers re-
minds one of the boy who takes so long a run in order
to gain headway for a jump that when he reaches the
line, he is too tired to jump far. {ii) The organs by
which we apprehend new material are our habits. To
insist too minutely upon turning over habitual disposi-
tions into conscious ideas is to interfere with their best
workings. Some factors of familiar experience must in-
deed be brought to conscious recognition, just as trans-

208

HOW WE THINK

planting is necessary for the best growth of some plants.
But it is fatal to be forever digging up either experiences
or plants to see how they are getting along. Constraint,
self-consciousness, embarrassment, are the consequence of
too much conscious refurbishing of familiar experiences.

Strict Herbartians generally lay it down that state-
ment — by the teacher — of the aim of a lesson is an
indispensable part of preparation. This preliminary
statement of the aim of the lesson hardly seems more
intellectual in character, however, than tapping a bell
or giving any other signal for attention and transfer of
thoughts from diverting subjects. To the teacher the
statement of an end is significant, because he has already
been at the end ; from a pupil's standpoint the statement
of what he is going to learn is something of an Irish
bull. If the statement of the aim is taken too seriously
by the instructor, as meaning more than a signal to at-
tention, its probable result is forestalling the pupil's own
reaction, relieving him of the responsibiUty of develop-
ing a problem and thus arresting his mental initiative.

It is unnecessary to discuss at length presentation as
a factor in the recitation, because our last chapter
covered the topic under the captions of observation and
communication. The function of presentation is to sup-
ply materials that force home the nature of a problem
and furnish suggestions for dealing with it. The prac-
tical problem of the teacher is to preserve a balance be-
tween so little showing and telling as to fail to stimulate
reflection and so much as to choke thought. Provided
the student is genuinely engaged upon a topic, and pro-
vided the teacher is willing to give the student a good
deal of leeway as to what he assimilates and retains (not
requiring rigidly that everything be grasped or repro-

RECITATION AND TRAINING OF THOUGHT 209

duced), there is comparatively little danger that one who
is himself enthusiastic will communicate too much con-
cerning a topic.

- II. The distinctively rational phase of reflective in-
quiry consists, as we have already seen, in the elabora-
tion of an idea, or working hypothesis, through conjoint ing out 1
comparison and contrast, terminating in definition or ^^^°^^^^^
formulation, (i) So far as the recitation is concerned,
the primary requirement is that the student be held
responsible for working out mentally every suggested
principle so as to show what he means by it, how
it bears upon the facts at hand, and how the facts
bear upon it. Unless the pupil is made responsible for
developing on his own account the reasonableness of the
guess he puts forth, the recitation counts for practically
nothing in the training of reasoning power. A clever
teacher easily acquires great skill in dropping out the
inept and senseless contributions of pupils, and in select-
ing and emphasizing those in line with the result he
wishes to reach. But this method (sometimes called
"suggestive questioning") relieves the pupils of intel-
lectual responsibiUty, save for acrobatic agility in follow-
ing the teacher's lead.

(ii) The working over of a vague and more or less The neces-
casual idea into coherent and definite form is impossible ^^J^
without a pause, without freedom from distraction, leisure
We say " Stop and think " ; well, all reflection involves,
at some point, stopping external observations and re-
actions so that an idea may mature. Meditation, with-
drawal or abstraction from clamorous assailants of the
senses and from demands for overt action, is as necessary
at the reasoning stage, as are observation and experi-
ment at other periods. The metaphors of digestion and

210

HOW WE THINK

assimilation, that so readily occur to mind in connection
with rational elaboration, are highly instructive. A
silent, uninterrupted working-over of considerations by
comparing and weighing alternative suggestions, is
indispensable for the development of coherent and com-
pact conclusions. Reasoning is no more akin to disput-
ing or arguing, or to the abrupt seizing and dropping of
suggestions, than digestion is to a noisy champing of the '
jaws. The teacher must secure opportunity for leisurely
mental digestion.

(m) In the process of comparison, the teacher must
avert the distraction that ensues from putting before
the mind a number of facts on the same level of im-
portance. Since attention is selective, some one object
normally claims thought and furnishes the center of
departure and reference. This fact is fatal to the suc-
cess of the pedagogical methods that endeavor to con-
duct comparison on the basis of putting before the mind
a row of objects of equal importance. In comparing,
the mind does not naturally begin with objects a, b, c, d,
and try to find the respect in which they agree. It be-
gins with a single object or situation more or less vague
and inchoate in meaning, and makes excursions to other
objects in order to render understanding of the central
object consistent and clear. The mere multiplication
of objects of comparison is adverse to successful reason-
ing. Each fact brought within the field of comparison
should clear up some obscure feature or extend some
fragmentary trait of the primary object.

In short, pains should be taken to see that the object
on which thought centers is typical: material being typi-
cal when, although individual or specific, it is such as
readily and fruitfully suggests the principles of an en-

RECITATION AND TRAINING OF THOUGHT 211

tire class of facts. No sane person begins to think
about rivers wholesale or at large. He begins with the
one river that has presented some puzzling trait. Then
he studies other rivers to get light upon the baffling
features of this one, and at the same time he employs
the characteristic traits of his original object to reduce to
order the multifarious details that appear in connection
'with other rivers. This working back and forth pre-
serves unity of meaning, while protecting it from mo-
notony and narrowness. Contrast, unlikeness, throws
significant features into relief, and these become instru-
ments for binding together into an organized or coher-
ent meaning dissimilar characters. The mind is de-
fended against the deadening influence of many isolated
particulars and also against the barrenness of a merely
formal principle. Particular cases and properties sup-
ply emphasis and concreteness ; general principles con-
vert the particulars into a single system.

(iv) Hence generalization is not a separate and single AU insight
act ; it is rather a constant tendency and function of the "" ° mean-
entire discussion or recitation. Every step forward
toward an idea that comprehends, that explains, that
unites what was isolated and therefore puzzling, gener-
alizes. The little child generalizes as truly as the adoles-
cent or adult, even though he does not arrive at the
same generahties. If he is studying a river basin, his
knowledge is generalized in so far as the various details
that he apprehends are found to be the effects of a sin-
gle force, as that of water pushing downward from
gravity, or are seen to be successive stages of a single his-
tory of formation. Even if there were acquaintance
with only one river, knowledge of it under such condi-
tions would be generalized knowledge.

212

HOW WE THINK

The factor of formulation, of conscious stating, involved
in generalization, should also be a constant function,
not a single formal act. Definition means essentially
the growth of a meaning out of vagueness into definite-
ness. Such final verbal definition as takes place should
be only the culmination of a steady growth in distinct-
ness. In the reaction against ready-made verbal defini-
tions and rules, the pendulum should never swing to the
opposite extreme, that of neglecting to summarize the
net meaning that emerges from dealing with particular
facts. Only as general summaries are made from time
to time does the mind reach a conclusion or a resting
place ; and only as conclusions are reached is there an
intellectual deposit available in future understanding.

III. As the last words indicate, application and gen-
eralization lie close together. Mechanical skill for fur-
ther use may be achieved without any explicit recogni-
tion of a principle ; nay, in routine and narrow technical
matters, conscious formulation may be a hindrance.
But without recognition of a principle, without general-
ization, the power gained cannot be transferred to new
and dissimilar matters. The inherent significance of
generalization is that it frees a meaning from local re-
strictions; rather, generalization is meaning so freed;
it is meaning emancipated from accidental features so
as to be available in new cases. The surest test for de-
tecting a spurious generalization (a statement general in
verbal form but not accompanied by discernment of
meaning), is the failure of the so-called principle spon-
taneously to extend itself. The essence of the g eneral
i%j,{iplicatiQn. (Ante, p. 29.)

The true purpose of exercises that apply rules and
principles is, then, not so much to drive or drill them

RECITATION AND TRAINING OF THOUGHT 213

in as to give adequate insight into an idea or prin-
ciple. To treat application as a separate final step is
disastrous. In every judgment some meaning is em-
ployed as a basis for estimating and interpreting some
fact ; by this application the meaning is itself enlarged
and tested. When the general meaning is regarded as
complete in itself, application is treated as an external,
non-intellectual use to which, for practical purposes alone,
it is advisable to put the meaning. The principle is one
self-contained thing ; its use is another and independent
thing. When this divorce occurs, principles become
fossilized and rigid ; they lose their inherent vitality,
their self-impelling power.

A true conception is a moving idea, and it seeks out-
let, or application to the interpretation of particulars and
the guidance of action, as naturally as water runs down-
hill. In fine, just as reflective thought requires particu-
lar facts of observation and events of action for its
origination, so it also requires particular facts and deeds
for its own consummation. " Glittering generalities "
are inert because they are spurious. Application is
as much an intrinsic part of genuine reflective inquiry
as is alert observation or reasoning itself. Truly gen-
eral principles tend to apply themselves. The teacher
needs, indeed, to supply conditions favorable to use and
exercise ; but something is wrong when artificial tasks
have arbitrarily to be invented in order to secure ap-
plication for principles.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SOME GENERAL CONCLUSIONS

We shall conclude our survey of how we think and
how we should think by presenting some factors of
thinking which should balance each other, but which con-
stantly tend to become so isolated that they work against
each other instead of cooperating to make reflective in-
quiry efficient.

§ I. The Unconscious and the Conscious

It is significant that one meaning of the term under-
stood is something so thoroughly mastered, so completely
agreed upon, as to be assumed ; that is to say, taken as a
matter of course without expHcit statement. The familiar
" goes without saying " means " it is understood." If
two persons can converse intelligently with each other, it
is because a common experience supplies a background
of mutual understanding upon which their respective re-
marks are projected. To dig up and to formulate this
common background would be imbecile ; it is " under-
stood" ; that is, it is silently sup-plied and im-plied as the
taken-f or-granted medium of intelligent exchange of ideas.

If, however, the two persons find themselves at cross-
purposes, it is necessary to dig up and compare the pre-
suppositions, the implied context, on the basis of which
each is speaking. The im-plicit is made ex-plicit ; what
was unconsciously assumed is exposed to the light of
conscious day. In this way, the root of the misunder-
214

SOME GENERAL CONCLUSIONS 215

standing is removed. Some such rhythm of the uncon-
scious and the conscious is involved in all fruitful
thinking. A person in pursuing a consecutive train of
thoughts takes some system of ideas for granted (which
accordingly he leaves unexpressed, "unconscious ") as
surely as he does in conversing with others. Some con-
text, some situation, some controlling purpose dominates
his explicit ideas so thoroughly that it does not need
to be consciously formulated and expounded. Explicit
thinking goes on within the hmits of what is implied or
understood. Yet the fact that reflection originates in a
problem makes it necessary at some points consciously
to inspect and examine this familiar background. We|
have to turn upon some unconscious assumption andjl
make it explicit. jp

No rules can be laid downTor attaining the due balance Rules can-
and rhythm of these two phases of mental life. No or- °o°r attJn-^°
dinance can prescribe at just what point the spontaneous '^% a
working of some unconscious attitude and habit is to be
checked till we have made explicit what is implied in it.
No one can tell in detail just how far the analytic in-
spection and formulation are to be carried. We can say
that they must be carried far enough so that the individual
will know what he is about and be able to guide his
thinking ; but in a given case just how far is that .'' We
can say that they must be carried far enough to detect and
guard against the source of some false perception 01;
reasoning, and to get a leverage on the investigation ;
but such statements only restate the original difficulty.
Since our reliance must be upon the disposition and tact
of the individual in the particular case, there is no test
of the success of an education more important than the
extent to which it nurtures a type of mind competent to

2l6

HOW WE THINK

maintain an economical balance of the unconscious and
the conscious.

The ways of teaching criticised in the foregoing pages
as false " analytic " methods of instruction {ante, p. 112),
all reduce themselves to the mistake of directing explicit
attention and formulation to what would work better iJE
left an unconscious attitude and working assumption.
To pry into the familiar, the usual, the automatic, simply
for the sake of making it conscious, simply for the sake of
formulating it, is both an impertinent interference, and
a source of boredom. To be forced to dwell consciously
upon the accustomed is the essence of ennui ; to pursue
methods of instruction that have that tendency is de-
liberately to cultivate lack of interest.

On the other hand, what has been said in criticism of
merely routine forms of skill, what has been said about
the importance of having a genuine problem, of intro-
ducing the novel, and of reaching a deposit of gen-
eral meaning weighs on the other side of the scales.
It is as fatal to good thinking to fail to make con-
scious the standing source of some error or failure as
it is to pry needlessly into what works smoothly. To
over-simplify, to exclude the novel for the sake of
prompt skill, to avoid obstacles for the sake of averting
errors, is as detrimental as to try to get pupils to formu-
late everything they know and to state every step of the
process employed in getting a result. Where the shoe
: pinches, analytic examination is indicated. When a
i topic is to be clinched so that knowledge of it will carry
over into an effective resource in further topics, conscious
condensation and summarizing are imperative. In the
early stage of acquaintance with a subject, a good deal of
unconstrained unconscious mental play about it may be

SOME GENERAL CONCLUSIONS 2\^

permitted, even at the risk of some random experiment-
ing ; in the later stages, conscious formulation and re-
view may be encouraged. Projection and reflection,
going directly ahead and turning back in scrutiny, should
alternate. Unconsciousness gives spontaneity and fresh-
ness ; consciousness, conviction and control.

§ 2. Process and Product

A like balance in mental Uf e characterizes process and puy and
product. We met one important phase of this adjust- work again
ment in considering play and work. In play, interest cen-
ters in activity, without much reference to its outcome.
The sequence of deeds, images, emotions, suffices on
its own account. In work, the end holds attention and
controls the notice given to means. Since the difference
is on'; of direction of interest, the contrast is one of em-
phasis, not of cleavage. When comparative prominence
in consciousness of activity or outcome is transformed
into isolation of one from the other, play degenerates
into fooling, and work into drudgery.

By " fooKng" we understand a series of disconnected Play should
temporary overflows of energy dependent upon whim fo°oii^g^
and accident. When all reference to outcome is elimi-
nated from the sequence of ideas and acts that make
play, each member of the sequence is cut loose from
every other and becomes fantastic, arbitrary, aimless ;
mere fooling follows. There is some inveterate tend-
ency to fool in children as well as in animals ; nor is the
tendency wholly evil, for at least it militates against
falling into ruts. But when it is excessive in amount,
dissipation and disintegration follow ; and the only way
of preventing this consequence is to make regard for
results enter into even the freest play activity.

2l8

HOW WE THINK

Exclusive interest in the result alters work to drudg-
ery. For by drudgery is meant those activities in
which the interest in the outcome does not suffuse the
means of getting the result. Whenever a piece of work
becomes drudgery, the process of doing loses all value
for the doer ; he cares solely for what is to be had at
the end of it. The work itself, the putting forth of en-
ergy, is hateful; it is just a necessary evil, since without
it some important end would be missed. Now it is a
commonplace that in the work of the world many things
have to be done the doing of which is not intrinsically
very interesting. However, the argument that children
should be kept doing drudgery-tasks because thereby
they acquire power to be faithful to distasteful duties, is
wholly fallacious. Repulsion, shirking, and evasion are
the consequences of having the repulsive imposed —
not loyal love of duty. Willingness to work for ends by
means of acts not naturally attractive is best attained by
securing such an appreciation of the value of the end
that a sense of its value is transferred to its means of
accomplishment. Not interesting in themselves, they
borrow interest from the result with which they are
associated.

The intellectual harm accruing from divorce of work
and play, product and process, is evidenced in the
proverb, "All work and no play makes Jack a dull
boy." That the obverse is true is perhaps sufficiently
signalized in the fact that fooling is so near to foolish-
ness. To be playful and serious at the same time
is possible, and it defines the ideal mental condition.
Absence of dogmatism and prejudice, presence of intel-
lectual curiosity and flexibility, are manifest in the free
play of the mind upon a topic. To give the mind this

SOME GENERAL CONCLUSIONS 219

free play is not to encourage toying with a subject,
but is to be interested in the unfolding of the subject
on its own account, apart from its subservience to a
preconceived belief or habitual aim. Mental play is
open-mindedness, faith in the power of thought to Free play
preserve its own integrity without external supports and °* ™'°"*
arbitrary restrictions. Hence free mental play involves
seriousness, the earnest following of the development of
subject-matter. It is incompatible with carelessness or
flippancy, for it exacts accurate noting of every result
reached in order that every conclusion may be put to
further use. What is termed the interest in truth for
its own sake is certainly a serious matter, yet this pure
interest in truth coincides with love of the free play of is normal in
thought. ' childhood

In spite of many appearances to the contrary — usu-
ally due to social conditions of either undue superfluity
that induces idle fooling or undue economic pressure
that compels drudgery — childhood normally realizes the
ideal of conjoint free mental play and thoughtfulness.
Successful portrayals of children have always made
their wistful intentness at least as obvious as their lack
of worry for the morrow. To live in the present is
compatible with condensation of far-reaching meanings
in the present. Such enrichment of the present for its
own sake is the just heritage of childhood and the best
insurer of future growth. The child forced into pre-
mature concern with economic remote results may de-
velop a surprising sharpening of wits in a particular
direction, but this precocious specialization is always
paid for by later apathy and dullness.

That art originated in play is a common saying.
Whether or not the saying is historically correct, it

220 HOW WE THINK

suggests that harmony of mental playfulness and seri-
ousness describes the artistic ideal. When the artist is
preoccupied overmuch with means and materials, he
may achieve wonderful technique, but not the artistic
spirit par excellence. When the animating idea is in ex-
cess of the command of method, aesthetic feeling may be ^
indicated, but the art of presentation is too defective
to express the feeling thoroughly. When the thought
of the end becomes so adequate that it compels transla-
tion into the means that embody it, or when attention
to means is inspired by recognition of the end they
serve, we have the attitude typical of the artist, an atti-
tude that may be displayed in all activities, even though
not conventionally designated arts.

That teaching is an art and the true teacher an artist is
a familiar saying. Now the teacher's own claim to rank
in nurturing as an artist is measured by his ability to foster the attitude
of the artist in those who study with him, whether they
be youth or little children. Some succeed in arousing
enthusiasm, in communicating large ideas, in evoking
energy. So far, well ; but the final test is whether the
stimulus thus given to wider aims succeeds in transform-
ing itself into power, that is to say, into the attention to
detail that ensures mastery over means of execution.
If not, the zeal flags, the interest dies out, the ideal be-
comes a clouded memory. Other teachers succeed in
training facihty, skill, mastery of the technique of sub-
jects. Again it is well — so far. But unless enlarge-
ment of mental vision, power of increased discrimination
of final values, a sense for ideas — for principles —
accompanies this training, forms of skill ready to be
put indifferently to any end may be the result. Such
modes of technical skill may display themselves, accord-

SOME GENERAL CONCLUSIONS 221

ing to circumstances, as cleverness in serving self-inter-
est, as docility in carrying out the purposes of others, or
as unimaginative plodding in ruts. To nurture inspir-
ing aim and executive means into harmony with each
other is at once the difficulty and the reward of the
teacher.

§ 3. The Far and the Near

Teachers who have heard that they should avoid
matters foreign to pupils' experience, are frequently
surprised to find pupils wake up when something beyond
their ken is introduced, while they remain apathetic in
considering the familiar. In geography, the child upon
the plains seems perversely irresponsive to the intel-
lectual charms of his local environment, and fascinated
by whatever concerns mountains or the sea. Teachers
who have struggled with little avail to extract from
pupils essays describing the details of things with which
they are well acquainted, sometimes find them eager
to write on lofty or imaginary themes. A woman of
education, who has recorded her experience as a factory
worker, tried retelling Little Women to some factory girls
during their working hours. They cared little for' it,
saying, " Those girls had no more interesting experience
than we have," and demanded stories of millionaires and
society leaders. A man interested in the mental con-
dition of those engaged in routine labor asked a Scotch
girl in a cotton factory what she thought about all
day. She replied that as soon as her mind was free
from starting the machinery, she married a duke, and
their fortunes occupied her for the remainder of the day.

Naturally, these incidents are not told in order to en-
courage methods of teaching that appeal to the sensa-

222

HOW WE THINK

tional, the extraordinary, or the incompreiit.nsible.
They are told, however, to enforce the point that the
familiar and the near do not excite or repay thought on
their own account, but only as they are adjusted to
mastering the strange and remote. It is a common-
place of psychology that we do not attend to the old,
nor consciously mind that to which we are thoroughly
accustomed. For this, there is good reason : to devote
attention to the old, when new circumstances are con-
stantly arising to which we should adjust ourselves,
would be wasteful and dangerous. Thought must be
reserved for the new, the precarious, the problematic.
Hence the mental constraint, the sense of being lost,
that comes to pupils when they are invited to turn their
thoughts upon that with which they are already familiar.
The old, the near, the accustomed, is not that to which
but that with which we attend ; it does not furnish the
material of a problem, but of its solution.

The last sentence has brought us to the balancing of
new and old, of the far and that close by, involved in re-
flection. The more remote supplies the stimulus and the
motive ; the nearer at hand furnishes the point of ap-
proach and the available resources. This principle may
also be stated in this form : the best thinking occurs
when the easy and the difficult are duly proportioned to
each other. The easy and the familiar are equivalents,
as are the strange and the difficult. Too much that is
easy gives no ground for inquiry ; too much of the hard
renders inquiry hopeless.

The necessity of the interaction of the near and the
far follows directly from the nature of thinking. Where
there is thought, something present suggests and indi-
cates something absent. Accordingly unless the familiar

SOME GENERAL CONCLUSIONS 223

is presented under conditions that are in some respect
unusual, it gives no jog to thinking, it makes no demand
upon what is not present in order to be understood.
And if the subject presented is totally strange, there is
no basis upon which it may suggest anything service-
able for its comprehension. When a person first has to
do with fractions, for example, they will be wholly
baffling so far as they do not signify to him some rela-
tion that he has already mastered in dealing with whole
numbers. When fractions have become thoroughly
familiar, his perception of them acts simply as a signal
to do certain things; they are a "substitute sign," to
which he can react without thinking. {Ante, p. 178.)
If, nevertheless, the situation as a whole presents some-
thing novel and hence uncertain, the entire response is
not mechanical, because this mechanical operation is put
to use in solving a problem. There is no end to this
spiral process : foreign subject-matter transformed
through thinking into a familiar possession becomes a
resource for judging and assimilating additional foreign
subject-matter.

The need for both imagination and observation in
every mental enterprise illustrates another aspect of the
same principle. Teachers who have tried object-lessons nation
of the conventional type have usually found that when
the lessons were new, pupils were attracted to them as
a diversion, but as soon as they became matters 0/
course they were as dull and wearisome as was ever the
most mechanical study of mere symbols. Imaginatioij
could not play about the objects so as to enrich them.
The feeling that instruction in " facts, facts " produces,
a narrow Gradgrind is justified not because facts in
themselves are limiting, but because facts are dealt out

the remote

224

HOW WE THINK

as such hard and fast ready-made articles as to leave
no room to imagination. Let the facts be presented so
as to stimulate imagination, and culture ensues naturally-
enough. The converse is equally true. The imagina-
tive is not necessarily the imaginary ; that is, the unreal.
The proper function of imagination is vision of realities
that cannot be exhibited under existing conditions of
sense-perception. Clear insight into the remote, the
absent, the obscure is its aim. History, literature, and
geography, the principles of science, nay, even geometry
and arithmetic, are full of matters that must be imagi-
natively realized if they are realized at all. Imagination
supplements and deepens observation ; only when it
turns into the fanciful does it become a substitute for
observation and lose logical force.

A final exempHfication of the required balance be-
tween near and far is found in the relation that obtains
between the narrower field of experience realized in an
individual's own contact with persons and things, and
the wider experience of the race that may become
his through communication. Instruction always runs
the risk of swamping the pupil's own vital, though nar-
row, experience under masses of communicated material.
The instructor ceases and the teacher begins at the
point where communicated matter stimulates into fuller
a c^ , more significant life that which has entered by
d 2 strait and narrow gate of sense-perception and
iiiotor activity. Genuine communication involves con-
tagion ; its name should not be taken in vain by terming
communication that which produces no community of
thought and purpose betvveen the child and the race
of which he is the heir.